Betrayal of Trust
by BellaSarah
Summary: Nearly losing Red scared Lizzie to her core. Now she and the team are taking the necessary steps to make sure that never happens again. Will a woman from Red's past hold the answers Lizzie has been waiting for? [Red, OC][Eventual Keenler]
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hey, y'all. I've been in a writing dry spell (like the Sahara). I have a zillion writing prompts pinned on Pinterest, so I challenged myself to string them into a story. I've had an idea kicking around in my head for a while and the challenge I issued to myself and the T. Earl King VI episode gave me the perfect opportunity to give it a shot. This is my first TBL fic. It'll be a little AU because of the OC but I hope you'll give it a shot.

**1: Dropping Like Flies**

The shot rang out, startling them all as a crimson stain bloomed across Earl King's white dress shirt where his black heart used to beat.

"Oh my God, what are the odds?" Red asked with a feigned chuckle.

"You monster," gasped Francis, the bespectacled son.

"Oh, I'm a monster? Perhaps you should speak to me more softly, then. Monsters are dangerous, and just now kings are dropping like flies."

He noticed that Lizzie managed to contain an eye roll. Barely. There'd be hell to pay for that comment later, he felt sure.

"I'll leave the three of you to your own misery. Avoid the yard," he said, moving around the desk. Lizzie lowered her pistol as he walked through her line of fire. "Be nice to your cell mate." Her pistol went back up as soon as he was clear. He'd have to compliment her on her tactical awareness later. "And whatever you do," he continued, taking the log book, "don't eat the franks and beans."

He turned his back, leaving the three men looking stupefied. Handing Lizzie his pistol and trusting her to have his back, he made his exit.

"Oh, and I don't need your lousy tux," he said as an afterthought, some venom in his words. "I want my clothes back."

It was chilly when they exited the Vicarage. What a pompous name. Red was back in his own clothes but noticeably subdued. Ressler's eyes fell on Liz as soon as they stepped out. He made his way through the crowd to them.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes running over her before glancing at Reddington. The shell shocked look on both their faces concerned him. He looked at the pistols hanging limply at her sides. "Jesus, Liz. That's a good way to get shot."

SWAT was crawling all over the scene and she was unidentified and carrying weapons. He took the guns and dismantled them, setting them on the hood of someone's unit. He motioned for the agent to tag and bag them and then shrugged out of his heavy FBI jacket. Big enough to go over his own suit jacket, it all but swallowed Liz. He motioned to the Suburban he and Samar had arrived in.

"We'll get you out of here soon. Okay?" he said, taking her shoulders. She nodded once, not meeting his eyes. He gave her shoulders a squeeze and strode off.

"Go ahead," Liz said to Red, motioning to the car. "I'll give the agent the gun information and then I'll be right there."

Wordlessly, he did as he was told. Liz's eyes clung to his back as he moved stiffly. She'd almost lost him tonight. The thought had her blinking back tears.

"Agent Keen? I'm sorry but…," the young agent motioned her over.

Wasn't it odd that she no longer considered herself a young agent? She gained more experience in a year with Red than she had the entire four years prior to that. The man had irrevocably changed her life. She didn't know what she would do without him but the fact that she'd come very close to finding out tonight scared the crap out of her.

She gave the agent all the information she could and finally moved to the SUV. Emotions roiled through her as she settled down into the warm vehicle. She shot Red a look as she dumped the ledger into her lap. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze for more than a moment.

"Never do that again."

In that moment, his voice was little more than a rumble. He looked so old. So tired. So _human_.

"You're welcome," she retorted, anger boiling to the surface. Was he really going to lecture her? After he scared the hell out of her?

"I'm serious. You can never do that again. Promise me."

She could see the dampness around his eyes and she knew that it was more than just a reaction to the cold. Just as she knew in that moment that it was a promise she would never—could never—make. She'd put herself on the line every single time he was in danger if it meant not losing him. Because today she almost did. Today she heard him breathe her name in final farewell, a final prayer. Not The Fulcrum. Not Naomi. Not Jennifer. _Lizzie_.

"We took down dozens of wanted criminals. Recovered millions of dollars in stolen property and saved innocent lives," she stated, trying to draw his attention away from the promise. To make him see something bigger. But really, was there anything bigger than the two of them in that moment? She just needed to distract him. She could sense that if he thought she'd risk herself to save him again, he'd disappear without a trace. She couldn't deal with that.

"I'm not talking about that."

He wasn't distracted by her statement of fact. His voice was rougher than she'd ever heard it, as if he was trying to talk around a knot identical to the one lodged in her own throat. She could feel the tears coming even as she tried valiantly to hold them back.

"You," she said with realization. Her heart shattering as the truth rang between them. "You're talking about you."

The fire was gone. It was being replaced with suffocating, soul-wrenching pity. Pity she knew he'd reject and resent, but pity all the same. It almost brought her to her knees to realize how vulnerable this paragon of strength really was. His face was unmoving under her scrutiny, his countenance like nothing she'd ever seen in him before.

"Wow. You are so damaged. You can't accept help from anyone. Has anyone ever helped you?" Her eyes began to fill at the thought. "Is that why you are the way you are? Because you don't feel deserving of it? Is that why you can't be vulnerable for one second?"

She knew as she asked the questions that they were undeniably true. His face, his eyes, his very soul lay naked before her.

"I risked my life for you because I care about you," she said carefully. Clearly. Never breaking their gaze. He must hear her. He must understand what he means to her. This was no longer a game. A diversion. He was of consequence to her and he needed to understand that. "Deal with that."

The tears finally came and the silence was deafening. Had she said too much? Had she chased him away?

"And when someone does something nice, you're supposed to say 'thank you.'"

The joke fell flat even to her own ears but it was an olive branch and he knew it.

"Thank you," he managed tightly, accepting the peace offering.

"You're welcome."

"But never do it again."

His eyes were as full as hers and he tried valiantly not to lose the tenuous hold on his emotions in front of her. She wanted to hold him and tell him that it would be okay. That they'd be okay. That they had each other now. But she didn't. She turned her face away and allowed him to have his moment even as a tear chased down her own cheek.

It is many hours later when Ress finally takes Liz back to her crappy hotel. Red's right. She can't go on living like this.

_Red._

"We almost lost him tonight, Ress," she says quietly.

"We almost lost you too," he observes. She shakes her head tiredly.

"I'm serious."

There is gravity in her face that he hasn't seen before. Her makeup is smudged and her hair falls wildly in curls around her face from where her up-do has been loosed. But beneath that, he sees a change in her. She isn't the idealistic, naïve agent he saw that first day—the one who giggled in Cooper's office that first day. Somewhere along the way they've become friends. Best friends. And she's had enough pain and disappointment in her life this year. Some days he doesn't know how they keep going. Except he does. Somewhere along the way, they've become a team and they keep each other going.

"Talk to me," he says, knowing she has something on her mind.

"We need to get him help. Back up."

"You. Dembe. Hell, even me. He has people."

"We're a liability. People know he's working with the FBI now. Just like they know Dembe is his bodyguard of sorts. He needs someone new. Someone we can trust but who isn't involved in our operation."

"Actually, I think I might have a solution," Ress says after a moment, his voice soft with thought. "Let me work on it and I'll let you know."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks for the follows, favorites, and review. I appreciate you taking the time to check out my little musings!

**2: An Unpleasant Surprise**

_She knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping but the voice was hypnotic…. _The Mossad agent escorting her waited patiently, observing her with some interest.

His voice was deep, cultured, and clearly angry as he argued heatedly with a woman who sounded equally upset. Still, it washed over her skin like warm bourbon, at once familiar and dark.

"I don't need you to find women for me, Elizabeth. I'm perfectly capable of finding my own."

"You're not."

"I'm not?" he asked, incredulously.

"Not like her," Elizabeth said with some exasperation. "She's special. She's trained. And her cover is very, _very_ solid and already in play. You've met her before. There is no way we can get someone else this concrete for you. Please just trust me."

"Don't do that, Lizzie. Don't try to play on my emotions."

"She's right, Reddington. This woman is solid. We need her. _You_ need her," a tired male voice added, a little frustrated, as if the other man and woman did this often.

The name pitched her forward into the room. Raymond Reddington. Concierge of Crime. Play boy, bad boy. She loathed everything about him. Everything that he stood for. Her rushed entrance drew his eyes to her.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," they said in unison, looking at the two agents accusingly. Liz tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling as if counting. Ressler ran a hand down his face with a heavy sigh.

"_This_ is who you chose for me? Jesus, Lizzie, you could have at least chosen a woman who doesn't want to vomit at the very sight of me," Reddington said, throwing up his hands dramatically.

"_This_ is the high-value asset you want me to protect? Really, Don? You failed to mention that little nugget when you called in your favor."

"I fail to see how this waif of a woman is going to protect me. She's a Broadway star for Christ's sake. She going to tap dance all over my enemies? Sing them to sleep?"

"Actually, she could probably kill you twelve different ways with a tap shoe," Aram quipped helpfully. When Reddington's death stare fell on him, his eyes fell back to his keyboard. "Sorry."

"I need a do over," Ressler said, collapsing into a chair with a sigh.

"I need a drink," Reddington quipped, leaning back in the leather chair and crossing his arms.

"And I need to get back to the city. I'm sorry, Don, but I can't help you," the woman said, turning to leave. Samar nonchalantly blocked her exit, leaning against the door jamb, hip cocked to take up more space so she couldn't get by.

"Please, Agent Ryker, just hear us out," Liz pleaded, taking her own seat and motioning for Agent Ryker to do the same. Agent Ryker and Samar stood in deceptively casual stances, sizing each other up for a tense moment as the others seemed to hold their breaths. Finally, curiosity got the better of her and she took the empty chair at the opposite end of the table from Reddington.

"Agent Elizabeth Keen, meet Special Agent Delaney Ryker," Ressler said formally, motioning from one to the other.

"Please, call me Lane. Have we met before?" Delaney said, studying Liz.

"I never would have pegged you for a fed, Laney," Reddington said smoothly, drawing her attention.

"I'm not. CIA."

That drew a deep, rumbling laugh from him.

"Aren't you just full of surprises."

"You have no idea," she retorted. "And please, it's just Lane now."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Liz quipped, under her breath.

Neither Red nor Lane acknowledged her comment as they continued to eyeball each other, each refusing to look away first. She ignored the way his gaze seemed to caress her face, her blonde hair. An oddly soft smile played like a ghost across his lips.

"You haven't changed much, Laney," he said quietly, that hypnotic tone washing over her again.

_Oh, he's good_, she thought to herself. He was testing the waters. Seeing how far his manipulation would go with her. She merely raised a brow, refusing to be deterred.

"You got older. And you have far less hair," she retorted. That drew a genuine chuckle from him.

"It happens, I'm afraid."

"Explain to me how the FBI has come to classify this traitor as a high-value target. Last I checked, he was on the ten most wanted list."

Lane turned her narrowed gaze to Ressler, who flushed a little beneath it. He knew he had brought her here under false pretense. Or if not by false pretense, by omitting a rather huge piece of information.

"Reddington turned himself into the FBI about a year ago. Since then, we have had a task force systematically working on taking down what we've dubbed the Blacklist."

"I take it he provided you with said list?" she asked, returning to her observation of Reddington, who was still watching her.

"Yes," Liz replied.

"In exchange for what?"

"In exchange for protection and the ability to move about freely."

"And what else?"

"Clever girl," he said so quietly they almost missed it. She noticed he still had that mouth tic, the one that made it look like he was almost chewing on the inside of his lip.

"I mean, that's a pretty sweet deal," Ressler said.

"It is. Unless you're Raymond Reddington. Everything he does is meticulous and calculated. He's been moving quite freely and safely on his own for the last twenty five years. Why turn himself over to the country who would like nothing more than to see him dead? What's in it for him?"

"His only other request has been to work with me," Liz said, shifting a bit uncomfortably.

"You. Elizabeth Keen. Lizzie." She watched Red closely as she said it. The threat in his eyes was unmistakable. "Remarkable." He seemed to relax visibly when she didn't say anything further on the subject. "And why exactly am I here?"

"Because karma really is a bitch?" Red quipped.

"Charming."

"Quite."

The rest of the team exchanged looks, unsure whether to be amused or alarmed by the acerbic repartee. Whatever history lay between the two, it didn't appear to be positive.

"We had a rather unfortunate incident about a month ago," Liz forged on. "Red was held captive and there was very little we could do to prevent it or help him. We got extremely lucky but we can't afford for something like that to happen again. We could lose him next time."

"And that would be tragic," Lane said, dryly.

"Careful or you'll hurt my feelings," Red replied.

"I see no reason why I should concern myself with your feelings or the threats on your life. It's a consequence of betraying one's country. You reap what you sow. Kudos, though, on the little snow job you have going here. Manipulating the FBI into not only working with you, but protecting you while you systematically take out your own competition. It's really quite genius."

"Do I sense admiration in your tone?"

"No. Look, Don. I appreciate your confidence in me and I know that I owe you big after Brussels…"

"That was you?" Reddington crowed. "Brava, Laney. That was a close one."

"However," she continued, ignoring him, "I can think of no good reason I should protect this man's life. His betrayal of this country and of my family personally, is something that drastically changed the course of my life. There is nothing that comes out of this that is worth compromising all that I believe to help this…traitor."

"Bethany," Liz said quietly.

"Beth…my niece? My niece," Lane breathed, pushing to her feet. "That was you. How…Danny was your best friend. Your brother. How could you…?"

"To clarify, Agent Ryker, Reddington was responsible for saving her. If not for his orchestrations and connections, we would not have been able to save Beth's life. When I found her, we had less than five minutes before the chemical weapon was going to detonate. There was nothing I could do but stay with her."

"I need a moment," Lane said, walking out of the room.

"Lane," Ressler said, moving to go after her.

"Let her go," Reddington said, tiredly. "She'll come back when she's worked it all out in her mind."

"Why didn't you tell me that you knew General Ryker?" Liz asked Red, her tone a study of hurt and frustration.

"It wasn't relevant to the case."

"It's relevant now. And you knew, Ress? Yet you never thought to bring it up?"

"I knew that General Ryker and Reddington had known each other since high school and that they attended the Naval Academy together. I knew that because I utilized Lane in the Brussels mission. As you've learned, her cover is very covert. I couldn't afford to reveal that information. Not only for her personal safety but in case we needed to utilize her later on."

"I'm impressed, Agent Ressler," Red said. "Not many people would dig deep enough to know about the Delaney Ryker connection."

"You did intend to visit her when you were in Brussels. I mean, don't get me wrong. She is beautiful and talented, but I knew it had to go deeper than that."

"It seems you were better informed than I was. I certainly didn't know she was a CIA operative."

"Only a handful of people do," Ress replied. "Look, I don't know what's between you two, but we need her."

"And how exactly is she supposed to fit into all of this? By playing the role of adoring girlfriend? Surely you see the flaws in that plan."

"It's actually a fairly sound plan," Lane said, re-entering the room looking more composed than when she left. She saw the surprise register on Red's face before he dropped his mask back in place.

"I'm not exactly known for being a one woman man," Red said dryly.

"Perhaps your life as a criminal isn't conducive to monogamy but you were quite devoted to Carla before the world went pear-shaped. It wouldn't be hard to sell the old connection between us. We can manipulate reality and make it work."

"So you'll help?" Liz asked, relieved.

"You've already cleared it with my superiors so I can't really refuse, can I? I'll help. _But_ only until the immediate threat against him has passed."

"In exchange for what?" Red asked, sitting back and eyeing her wearily.

"Clever boy," she said mockingly. "When this is over, I want to be the one who slaps the cuffs on you. I don't want the recognition and my agency doesn't need the collar. For your edification, the satisfaction of my family, and my devotion to this country, I want to be the reason this traitor no longer roams free."

"I'm hurt, Laney."

"I doubt it. And you better understand this. You try to make me an accomplice to any of your duplicitous bullshit and I will put a bullet in your brain. Are we clear?"

"Terrifyingly. Who knew you were so violent? I like it."

"Yeah, we'll see."


	3. Chapter 3

**3: And So It Begins**

Lane couldn't believe what she'd just agreed to. Her parents were probably turning over in their graves and Lord knew that Danny would have a cow when and if he ever found out. She still couldn't believe she was sitting across from him.

Raymond Reddington had aged about as gracefully as anyone she'd ever known. He painted quite a picture in his dark gray and navy three piece suit. His salt and pepper hair was closer to his skull than she'd ever seen it, except his first year in the Naval Academy when he'd shaved off his beautiful golden locks for the first time.

She remembered the night she'd drawn jack o'lantern faces on the back of his and Danny's heads with her mother's eyeliner in the middle of the night after they refused to let her watch Diff'rent Strokes. It was right before they were supposed to start the academy and Ray spent more time at their house than he had his own. She'd gotten in so much trouble when they showed up to Mass the next morning with the smudged faces unknowingly displayed for the whole congregation to see but it had been totally worth it. Even when Danny had cut all the hair off her favorite Barbie.

Lane swallowed hard at the memory. She had loved that Ray. The guy who'd been like her brother. The one she'd loved unequivocally and unapologetically. The one who played a role in the vast majority of her childhood memories. She couldn't reconcile him with the man before her. How had she been so wrong about him? How could she not sense the monster he would become? How could he pretend to love them all and then betray them so thoroughly?

He contemplated her shamelessly. His green eyes were bracketed by laugh lines and shadowed with more miseries than she could comprehend, but they still warmed to hers as they always had. His mouth turned up slightly, contemplatively, as if caught up in his own memories. It hurt her heart, this war that was raging inside her between what she knew now and what she'd once believed. She needed a break. She needed to work out her game plan and get her head on straight. She was damn good at her job and that wasn't about to change because of Raymond Reddington.

"I need to get back to the city," she stated, plainly. "I have a performance tonight and if I don't leave now, I won't make it in time. Don has my number. Just figure out a game plan and let me know what's going on. My run is up after next Saturday."

"Nonsense," Red said as she stood.

"I'm sorry? I'm contractually obligated to…"

"I meant you driving back," he interrupted. "It's a good four hour drive. I can have you back in half that time."

"You gonna teleport me back?"

"I was thinking we'd just use my jet this time," he said dryly.

"I'll pass, thank you. Besides, my car is here."

"Actually, it makes sense to me," Samar said from her seat across from Liz. Lane narrowed her eyes at her subtly. She did not need this chick to be her voice of reason when she was feeling decidedly unreasonable. "You can work on your cover story and it'll solidify the cover if your friends meet your mystery man."

"Good, then it's all settled," Reddington said with a smile.

Settled. Lane felt far from settled.

RrRrRrRrR

Red didn't try to fill the cavernous silence that spread between them. What was there to say? Was he going to make small talk? Tell her one of his many stories? She wasn't exactly open to that right now.

Delaney Ryker hadn't changed much in twenty five years. Sure, she wasn't a twenty year old co-ed anymore and her face had more laugh lines than the last time he saw her but she was still a knock out. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders in waves. Her gray eyes, however tired, were still the most unique color he'd ever seen. He was gratified to see the freckles still sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. As a wild-haired child, she had resented them but he always thought the fit her personality. Little flecks of her charisma on display for everyone to see. Always a bony child, she was still too thin for his taste. He imagined that was due to her demanding lifestyle. She hovered over him a bit in her stylish heels but her back felt slight under his palm when he'd ushered her onto the plane.

They sat across from each other in matching butter-soft leather chairs. He noticed that she clenched the armrests on take-off and avoided looking out the window by shutting her window slide. He'd forgotten how much she'd hated flying as a child.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, as the small flight crew busied themselves preparing their in-flight meal.

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head in puzzlement.

"I forgot that you hate to fly."

"It's been a while. It's a forgivable offense," she replied, picking at an invisible speck on her dress.

"At least there's one of those," he quipped rather lamely. She raised a brow as she met his gaze.

"You've known me almost my whole life, Ray. What did you really expect?"

"Actually, I had no idea that you were Lizzie's solution until you burst into the room like you were about to explode. Otherwise I would have ensured it didn't happen."

"I'm certain that's why they didn't ask either one of us. And speaking of Lizzie."

"There is no speaking of Lizzie."

His face was suddenly hard. Unmoving. Delaney Ryker might be one of his oldest connections but he compromised Lizzie for no one.

"She doesn't know."

"And she won't," he said very succinctly, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't jeopardize Elizabeth. Not even for you, Delaney."

"She'll hate you for keeping it from her."

"At least she'll be around to do so."

"Fair enough."

"And we need to come to an understanding about something right now. If it ever comes down to me or Lizzie, she is your priority. Every. Single. Time."

"She'll hate us both for that."

"Then so be it. Promise me."

"Does my word mean anything to you? I could lie right to your face."

"You could but you won't and your word used to mean a great deal to me. Quit trying to distract me and make the damn promise."

"You want me to spit in my palm too? Cross my heart?"

"Delaney."

"Fine. I promise," she said, rolling her eyes and sticking her pinky across the table at him.

It took him a second to realize what she was doing. A pinky promise. The mother of all promises. They'd done it a thousand times before. With a chuckle, he hooked his pinky around hers and they shook once.

"Your lunch, Mr. Reddington," said his attendant. Lane sat back as she served them.

"It looks wonderful, Whitney. Thank you," he said, gracing the young woman with a smile and effectively dismissing her. Lane shook her head. "What?"

"That Raymond Reddington charm. You still use it liberally, I see."

"I think people appreciate sincerity and gratitude. Please eat. I know you won't have much time after we land. I tried to remember what a performance meal required."

"No one has called it that since Mom passed away," she said with a sad smile. Before her was a fresh salad, a chicken breast, rice, a small bowl of fruit, a cup of hot tea, and water. His meal looked much the same except he had wine instead of tea. "This was thoughtful of you. Sincerely. Thank you."

"Of course," he said, motioning her to eat. Always the gentleman, he waited for her to begin eating before he picked up his own fork. "So. The CIA? How did that come about?"

"Because of you," she said around a mouthful of food. "We were questioned endlessly when you disappeared. By the FBI, CIA, DOJ, DOD. Life was a veritable alphabet soup for a while. The agent assigned to your case recruited me. I was a diplomat's kid, highly educated, spoke several languages, could move about the world fairly easily and inconspicuously. It wasn't much of a stretch."

"I can't imagine that your mother was okay with that."

"She didn't know. Danny still doesn't. Daddy knew only because of necessity. My handler at the time worked very hard to maintain my image. I was already in the city and performing so that stuck," she said with a shrug.

"Well, they did an excellent job keeping you off the books because I've found nothing on you," he said honestly, a bit perplexed. His sources were usually very, very good.

"Why would you even check?"

"I kept tabs on your family when I could."

"But why would you do that? You betrayed my father and Danny so thoroughly when you disappeared. They were almost indicted when you started selling US government secrets on the black market. It was pretty clear to all of us that you didn't give a damn about the consequences of your actions."

Her words were heated, her face flushed with anger. It hurt him to see her so wounded by his actions. He hadn't wanted to hurt the only real family he'd ever had but he would have gone to any lengths to protect those he loved. Still would. Even if they didn't understand why. Even if it painted him the villain.

"All I can tell you," he said around the tightness in his throat, "is that you don't have any idea what was going on."

"Then help me to understand. Because we loved you and you walked away without hesitation. Without remorse. You've done things that are so morally repugnant that I can't even begin to reconcile the man before me to the man I adored."

Though she fought it, her eyes filled with tears that cut him to his very soul. He had never wanted to hurt her or any of them. It bothered him deeply that he had let her down. It bothered him more knowing that if he had it to do over, he would do it again.

"I'm sorry for that."

"Me too, Ray. I was an idiot. We all were." She pushed a grape the bowl, composing herself. "I will help you. Because it's required of me. Because of Beth. Because of Lizzie. But you need to understand that all is not forgiven. I can fake it and I can make this cover relationship between us work but don't for one second think that my affections are genuine or real."

"I would never be so presumptuous," he said with a deep frown.

"My friends believe Sebastian Olivio—Bash—has been courting me for about a month. He is an old acquaintance I reconnected with a few weeks ago. He is a successful businessman and he travels a lot. Most recently to Germany. Never married. No kids."

"Bash? Really?" The disdain was thick in his voice.

"You can thank Agent Ressler for that one," she said with a genuine chuckle.

"Of course I can."

"When we land, you can come to my apartment and meet my roommate. He will spread the word fairly quickly."

"Wait. He?" Red asked, startled. He hadn't thought to ask if she was already in a relationship.

"He's not that kind of a 'roommate' and I'm not his type," she said, flashing him a look from under her lashes.

"You should actually eat the fruit instead of chasing it around that bowl."

She speared a strawberry and eyed it thoughtfully. There was something about the action that he found charming. She might hate him, and he genuinely understood why she did, but for him she was his best friend's kid sister. The one he'd antagonized endlessly and had loved dearly. He did not hold the contempt for her that she clearly had for him.

"I'll leave a ticket for you at will call and you can come play the adoring boyfriend. Visit me backstage after the show. Take me for a late meal. I'm sure you can find a suitable hotel on short notice."

She said it so nonchalantly that he almost had to laugh.

"Because your adoring boyfriend that you're about to run off with wouldn't stay with you?"

"_He_ might. _You_, however, will not. I think the amount of alcohol I'd need to sleep with you might actually kill me."

"That sound is my ego deflating."

"I sincerely doubt that."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Well, there are a few of you still favoriting and following so I'll keep posting. I realize that this isn't everyone's cup of tea so I truly appreciate your support. This chapter and the next are the last filler chapters before they return to the team. It was actually one super long chapter so I decided to split it up. Just had to get this nonsense out of the way! Thank you for sticking with me.**

**4: Real Life**

When they landed, there was a car waiting on the tarmac. Dembe loaded Red's stuff into the trunk while Red escorted Lane down the stairs. Dembe opened the door for them. Lane slid across the bench seat and settled as Red took his own seat. She gave Dembe directions to her apartment and settled back. Her mind was racing and she was simultaneously exhausted. The entire day felt so surreal. Her childhood friend sat next to her, a complete stranger. Totally foreign to her.

She had to return to her life. Deceive her friends. Leave behind what had become normal. She didn't know how she was going to fake being in a relationship with a man she had taught herself to loathe. What would have happened if he'd never left? Would be an admiral now? Would he and Danny still be best friends? Would he and Lane be friends or would she just get Christmas cards from Carla showing off their perfect life?

"I can practically hear you thinking," Red said softly, not turning his attention away from his window. She didn't turn to face him though she could faintly see his reflection in her own window as she stared out unseeingly.

"It's been a long day," she said tiredly.

"I'm sorry this is disrupting your life. If it's too much…"

"I have my orders, Ray. You know how that works. I'll see it through."

The ride was largely silent and Lane was aware of the weariness that soaked into her bones. A couple blocks from her apartment, she turned to him. Hearing her shift, he turned his head.

"Just…please remember this is my life, Ray. These people matter to me. They're my friends. Whatever unresolved issues we have, whatever dislike you feel for me. Just please leave this life intact for me, okay? Because eventually you're going to go again. You'll be out of my life forever. And this is all I'll have left. Okay?"

She was too tired to mince words. She knew the naked emotion played plainly on her face and she knew her wording was probably more revealing than it should be, but she just couldn't make herself care. This would play out in measurements and manipulations but right now she could only implore him honestly.

"Despite how you feel about me, Laney, and despite my actions to the contrary, I would never voluntarily harm you. I would never voluntarily leave your life in ruins."

"You'll understand if I have a hard time believing that," she said with a sad smile. "We're here."

She tried to see the row of brownstones through his eyes. They were probably mundane and, judging by what she'd seen of his lifestyle, well below the standard he was used to, but this was her happy little life. The sidewalks were clean, most of the homes had brightly colored planters brimming with blooms. It was her little slice of heaven in the bustling city.

Red gave Dembe instructions to wait for him and got out of the car. He walked around to her side and opened her door. She took his proffered hand and allowed him to help her out. He closed the door but didn't move out of her personal space.

"Are you ready to do this?" he asked, his voice almost intimate in tone and so quiet that she felt it more than heard it.

"As I'll ever be," she replied, not meeting his gaze as she reached up to fidget with his tie like she was straightening it. "Ready, Bash?"

His laugh was decidedly fake but she smiled at him as adoringly as she could muster and laced her fingers through his.

"Ben," she called when they entered. The rugs on the hardwood floor muffled their steps as she led him into the apartment proper. A little yellow, one-eyed cat slid into the room with so much personality that Red genuinely chuckled. With an authentic laugh, Lane reached down and scooped him up.

"That is the most disreputable creature I've ever seen," Red said, scratching behind his ears roughly.

"This is Ben's cat, Merlin."

"Hark! I hear voices!" came a male voice from upstairs. A man about Lane's age trotted down stairs looking for all the world like an LL Bean catalogue model. His dark hair was perfectly coifed and he wore khakis and a blue checkered button down with a blue scarf. "Well my, my. What have we here?"

"Ben, this is Bash. Bash, my roommate, Ben. Bash decided to surprise me," she said, widening her eyes at Ben behind Red's back with feigned excitement. A Cheshire grin spread across Ben's face.

"We were beginning to wonder if you were real, Bash. Lane failed to tell us you were so scrumptious. I just love your suit."

"Oh, thank you," Red said graciously, putting his arm around Lane and gazing at her adoringly. "I'm afraid business took me out of the country at the most inopportune time. I'm glad to finally be able to visit for a few days."

"A few days. That's wonderful! I hope you'll be able to catch a performance before Lane's run is up."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Have you seen her perform before?"

"Not in a very long time, unfortunately."

"Well then, you are in for a very special treat. She's positively hypnotic in All That Jazz."

"I look forward to experiencing that," Red said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Bash has to go check into his hotel but I wanted you to meet him before we had to leave."

"Hotel? Are you crazy? You haven't seen him in a month. Bash, I insist you stay with us."

"Oh no, really, Ben," Lane said, her voice a bit panicked. "We don't want to make you uncomfortable. He's perfectly okay in a hotel."

"Don't be ridiculous. I look forward to getting to know the new man in your life, Lane. It won't be uncomfortable at all. Just try to keep the loud animal sex to a minimum," he said with a wink.

"Jesus," Lane said, causing Red to genuinely laugh. She elbowed him in the side.

"Our Lane is always so proper," Ben said conspiratorially. "She'll loosen up. We have to leave soon, darling."

"I'll be ready."

"Bash, I look forward to your stay," Ben tossed over his shoulder. "Make yourself comfortable. Our home is your home.

"He seems quite lovely," Red said after Ben ran back upstairs.

"He is. I love him to death. Even when I want to choke him out."

"I'm sorry," Red said, grinning. Her eyes narrowed at him. The gleam in his green eyes said he was enjoying this thoroughly.

"No you're not. Go get your freaking bag," she said, rolling her eyes.

X X X

Lane showed Red around the apartment. It was what he would have expected of the Lane from years past—floral, splashes of bright colors, eclectic. Her bedroom was charmingly feminine and sizeable for an apartment. He dropped his bag on the floor by the picture window. The view looked down on the row of cheerful brownstones. It was quite lovely.

"Please make yourself at home," Lane said, glancing at the clock. "I've got to get to the theater soon."

She dug around in her bedside table and produced a keychain with a flying green witch and a key. He caught it handily when she tossed it to him. He watched as she dug through a drawer and pulled out some clothes. Kicking off her heels, she swept her hair over one shoulder and presented her back to him.

"Undo me, please?"

Slowly, he pulled the zipper down to the small of her back. The back of the dress parted, revealing her creamy skin, her black bra, and the edge of matching black lace peaking out just above where the zipper stopped. He had to swallow a bit, completely caught off guard by the punch of lust that hit him. Lane had always been a gorgeous child and she'd been a beautiful young woman, but he'd always viewed her in the scope of his friend's little sister. Now she was just merely Lane. His girlfriend. Cover or no, it was hard to ignore the woman before him.

"Go," he said roughly, resisting the urge to run his finger down the groove of her spine.

She turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. When she pulled away, he caught the slight tilt of her head indicating the door bedroom door was open. She walked toward the bathroom allowing the dress to slip off her shoulders. She didn't shut the door but he was eternally grateful that she stepped out of his line of sight.

Rubbing a hand down his face, he toed off his shoes and settled himself back against the headboard of her bed. She came back into the room in black and white striped capri leggings and a black scooped neck top. It was then that he realized he'd been wrong about the bony thing. He could see exactly how well-muscled all those dance rehearsals left her. He couldn't make himself look away as she walked over to the closet and hung her dress back up. She moved with a simple gracefulness that he'd never really noticed before.

From his vantage point on the bed, he watched her go back into the bathroom. She pulled a brush through her hair mercilessly before flipping her head and brushing it smooth into a high ponytail. Humming to herself, she made quick work of pinning her long hair into a neat dancer's bun. She flipped on the water in the sink and quickly washed her face.

"Benjamin Franklin Porter!" she yelled. "Where's my eye makeup remover?"

"Damn, she middle named me," Ben said, coming into the room with a small plastic container.

"Thief," she replied, affectionately, snatching it from him.

"I love those leggings," he said. "Your ass looks positively delicious in them. I almost want to have your babies. Am I right, Bash?"

"She does have an excellent ass," Red agreed, amused.

"Oh, Lord," she said with a laugh, wiping the remains of her mascara away.

She rubbed face cream on her face and neck before she grabbed a box of bandages. She jumped backwards onto the bed, her butt bouncing once. Ben took the box. She scooted up next to Red and wiggled her brightly colored toes. Even from his vantage point, Red could see the painful looking worn spots that had once been blisters.

"Hot, right?"

"Painful?"

"Only on stage," Ben said with a laugh, patching up one foot and then the other. She dropped her head onto Red's shoulder and he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, breathing in the smell of her hair.

"I'm glad you have someone to take care of you," Red said softly, taking her small hand in his and tracing his fingers over the palm.

"Always," Lane said, smiling at Ben. He patted her bandaged foot with affection.

"Five minutes, babe," Ben said, leaning over her side of the bed and pressing a kiss to her other temple before walking out. She stayed there leaning against Red, letting him trace the lines on her palm. She yawned, thoroughly relaxed.

'Time to go, little mama," Ben said from the doorway. She tipped her head back to look at Red.

"See you backstage?"

"Of course, darling," he said with a small smile. She angled her chin up and he pressed a sweet kiss to her mouth. "Break a leg."

She stood up on the bed and Ben turned his back to her. She jumped on and clung like a monkey as he pretended to buckle under her weight. It was clearly something they'd done numerous times before and Red laughed despite himself. He was truly glad she had someone to share her life with.


	5. Chapter 5

**5: A Shift**

As it turned out, Ben had been correct about Laney's performance during All That Jazz. She had been positively mesmerizing as she sashayed around stage in her dark wig and what could only be described as a black negligee. Red had seen her perform several times over the years when she was a child but this was his first experience seeing her as an adult. Her voice was strong and clear and sultry. He found he couldn't take his eyes off her.

He'd always thought of himself as a connoisseur of women. He appreciated all types. He believed women were lovely creatures that should be respected and esteemed. Tonight he saw Laney with different eyes. She wasn't his best friend's kid sister. She wasn't his pissed off former friend who would like nothing better than to be rid of him. Tonight she was breathtakingly, exquisitely talented Lane Ryker.

When the show was over, he made his way backstage. It was total chaos behind the curtains, at once exhilarating and overwhelming. He could see how people thrived off the adrenaline of theater life. The backstage area was a maze of rooms and hallways and he finally had to stop a chorus girl and ask her to show him to Laney's dressing room.

"You must be the new beau in her life," the woman said with a knowing smile.

"I'm the lucky man," he agreed with a wink. She gave him a once over as she ushered him down the hall.

"Lane's always had fantastic taste. I'll give her that." She knocked on an open door. "Visitor for you, Lane."

Red stepped into the room. He wasn't sure what he expected. Maybe that she'd have some huge, plush, organized room all to herself. Instead, he found a room, lined with lighted mirrors and jammed pack with costumes and hair pieces and heavily made up people.

"You made it!" Laney said, turning away from the mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes danced with excitement. In that moment, even though she was almost foreign to him in her stage makeup and black wig, she was absolutely stunning. She bounced out of her chair and launched herself into his arms. He held her close with a deep chuckle, holding the flowers he'd brought out to the side so she wouldn't crush them.

"You were positively marvelous," he said honestly, offering her the flowers. She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Everybody, this is Bash. Bash, this is everybody," she said with a laugh, sliding her arm around his waist as he hugged her into his side. There were a chorus of hellos and he felt like he was very much under a microscope. "Let me change and we can grab some food, yeah?"

"Of course."

She motioned for him to pull up a chair. He was perfectly content to watch her as she chattered with Ben, who sat at the mirror next to her, removing his stage makeup. She unpinned the dark wig and pulled it off, scratching at an irritated spot on her forehead. Ben offered her a packet of wipes which she used to wipe off the heavy makeup. Red couldn't help noticing that with her hair twisted up and her face wiped clean, she looked a good ten years younger than she was. She unbuckled her silver dance shoes, grabbed a bag and stepped behind a screen to change. When she emerged, she wore a strappy flowing black dress that fell just above her knees. It was simple but somehow looked elegant on her. He hummed approvingly in the back of his throat. She winked at him before sitting back down. She made quick work of light makeup and slid her feet into soft, comfy looking flats. And just like that, she was ready to go.

"You out?" Ben asked, stripping off his costume vest.

"Yep, meet you there?"

"Right behind you, babe," he said. She kissed his cheek and grabbed her bag and flowers. Red stood and took the bag from her.

"You don't have to carry my bag."

"I don't mind." She laced her arm through his and led him out a back door.

"There's a little Thai place that's open late a few blocks up if you don't mind the walk," she said, leaning into him a little. She seemed tired but relaxed for the first time since they'd been reunited.

"Are you sure you're up for the walk? I can have Dembe…."

"I don't mind," she assured him. "I love walking in the city when it's like this. Not quite warm, not quite cold. There is still a bit of a bustle but mostly it's just…"

"Peaceful," he finished.

"Exactly," she said, beaming at him.

"Is this what you do after every performance?"

"Just on Saturdays and only sometimes. We just have the matinee performance on Sunday and then we're off Monday so it's kind of a nice way to end a busy week and unwind."

"I'd forgotten how talented you are. You were exquisite on stage," dropping his arm, he took her hand. She tucked her other hand into the crook of his elbow and pulled her body into his arm. For everyone else they would look like an adoring couple, wrapped up in their own world.

"Thank you. Really," she said, giving him a shy smile.

Red resigned himself to experiencing a small glimpse of her life, a life of normalcy. They ate with her fellow cast mates, a boisterous group that randomly broke out in song, dance, and raucous laughter. Laney was very much in her element and seemed to glow from within, a vivacious, joyful version of the Laney he'd met just a few hours earlier. Red was unsettled by the dichotomy of the girl he knew and the woman she'd become. Or maybe he was unsettled because he was enticed by this version of a girl he'd once thought of only platonically. After she'd inhaled a stunning amount of pad thai, they made the short walk back to the apartment with Ben.

Laney and Ben chattered back and forth like monkeys so Red didn't have to worry about small talk and cover stories. He found that he was quite weary and ready for some peace and quiet. When they got back, Ben excused himself discretely and went upstairs. Laney took her flowers and put them in a vase of water.

"Drink?" she offered, motioning to the sideboard lined with bottles.

"That would be lovely," he said, helping himself to a bottle of scotch. He poured a couple fingers into a cut crystal glass. "Wine?"

"Please," she said, leaning against the sink and watching him pour her a glass. "You look tired."

"I stay tired," he replied, handing her the glass.

"Maybe you can rest easy tonight."

He was surprised when she took his hand and led him to the stairs. She kicked off her shoes at the foot of the stairs and then went up ahead of him. He forced his eyes from her back only to catch himself watching her legs. With a shake of his head, he concentrated on his own feet.

"Night, love birds," Ben said with a knowing smirk as he passed them on his way down the stairs.

"I need a quick shower," Laney said. "Make yourself at home."

She pulled some clothes out of a drawer and disappeared into the bathroom with her wine. He scrubbed a hand over his short hair. Red couldn't help but think that things were about to become very awkward. Why was he so hung up on this being Laney? Why did it bother him on this level? With a sigh he changed into pajamas and folded down the covers of her bed. He drained his scotch, wishing he could drink himself numb.

X X X

Lane turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and drained her wine, wishing she'd brought the bottle up. She stepped into the tub and let the hot water wash over her weary body. Her performance high was fading, leaving her to face the reality of sharing a bed with Red. She took her time washing and slathering on lotion, hoping he'd be asleep by the time she crawled into bed.

Those hopes were dashed when she opened the bathroom door and he was lying in bed reading. He had pillows bunched under his head and an arm thrown over it. She was charmed by his reading glasses and then she did a double take at his book cover.

"Did you pilfer one of my books?" she asked with a chuckle.

"I didn't pilfer it as much as I borrowed it," he said with a smile, glancing up. He did a double take of her tank top and sleep shorts before he went back to reading. "You have quite the collection. I forgot how much you liked to read."

"You forgot a lot of things," she teased, digging her own book out of her dance bag. She crawled across his legs to her own side of the bed. "And you can always help yourself to my books."

She settled in next to him and tried to concentrate on her book. Instead she found herself focusing on the sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating off his body, and the sound of him turning to the next page. Without a doubt, she knew this was going to be the longest night of her life. She realized he'd dozed off when his breathing evened out.

With a quiet sigh, she removed the book from his chest. She reached across him and deposited their books on the bedside table before switching off the lamp. She gently slid his glasses from his face. His hands came up to hers in the dark but they weren't rough. She'd startled him a bit but he wasn't so tired that he'd forgotten his surroundings.

"I drifted off." His voice rumbled near her ear as she placed his glasses on top of their books.

"Shh, just rest," she said softly. She pulled the blanket up over her bare shoulder and settled into her pillow facing him. She felt him shift onto his side to face her.

"Will you be able to sleep?"

"Doubtful," she replied honestly.

"Please try," he said gently.

His hand found hers in the dark and he traced patterns on her palm even as his breathing evened out again. His ministrations were soothing as his soft breath washed over their hands. She forced herself to relax but she slept fitfully. Every time he moved or jerked, her eyes would fly open. The room was beginning to lighten as dawn approached when she finally drifted off.

X X X

Red had awakened early the next morning to find Laney curled on her side, their joined hands tucked under her chin. He left a note on his pillow and left quietly to meet Dembe. They had some things to take care of while they were in the city. He whistled softly under his breath as Dembe drove him back later that evening. He'd slept more soundly than he had in ages and he was feeling very sprightly after a successful day. Laney's apartment was quiet when he let himself in except for some movement in the kitchen. He followed the sound to find Ben loading the dishwasher.

"Well, hello there, handsome," Ben said, looking up with a smile.

"Hi. How was the performance?"

"Great, as always. I'm afraid our girl is down with a headache though. She's upstairs napping."

"I'll go check on her. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment."

"Shoot."

"I just want to thank you for being such a good friend to Delaney. I'm heartened to know that she has someone on her team that cares for her so deeply."

"Well, thank you, Bash. That means a lot. I adore Lane."

"I also wanted to speak to you about my intention to ask her to travel with me for a while. I know that she's done with the show in another week and I'm afraid it's time for me to get back to work. I intend to ask her tonight but I wanted to mention it to you first."

"Lane makes her own decisions. She'd probably be pissed if she knew you were asking my permission."

"On the contrary, I think she cares for you a great deal and I feel like her concern for you will play a role in her decision."

"I want Lane to be happy and you seem to make her very happy. Just treat her well and take care of her. She's a strong woman. She's stubborn. Sometimes she forgets she has a support system to lean on."

"I'll treat her well. I give you my word."

"Then I whole heartedly support you."

"I'll just go up and check on her now. Thanks, Ben."

That done, Red went upstairs to Laney's room. The door was open and Laney was curled up into an impossibly small ball on the bed. She wore an oversized hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her head. He could see the small puckered line between her brows and knew she was only resting fitfully. Not bothering to shut the door, he crawled on to the bed next to her.

"You're back," she said, not opening her eyes.

"I'm sorry you don't feel well, sweetheart," he replied, rubbing her back gently. She unwound her limbs from the fetal position and burrowed into his arms. He stroked her back until the both drifted off, dead to the world.


	6. Chapter 6

**6: Hard Hearted**

It had been a long, emotional week for Lane as she said goodbye to cast mates that had become like family. It was especially hard to say goodbye to Ben for who knew how long. She understood that when this was all over that Ben and her home would still be waiting for her but somehow this goodbye seemed bigger. More permanent. Maybe it was the possibility that she might not make it back. Maybe it was that she was torn between two lives and it was just unsettling. She really didn't know.

What she did know, as she sat across from Red on his plane, was that things were changing. She was being dragged into the whirlpool of deception that seemed to surround him. She, like the FBI, was becoming an accomplice to his activities. She was torn between what she now saw as the three sides of him—her friend Ray, number four Raymond Reddington, and the Red she'd spent time with over the last week. He'd been sweet, attentive, and kind to, not only her, but the people in her life. She wondered how a man who still had the propensity for that level of benevolence could be an unmitigated, cold-blooded killer.

"You're conflicted," he said, not looking up from his book. She only hummed in agreement. "I'll make it simple for you. Trust your gut instinct."

"And how do I do that when it's constantly evolving where you're concerned?"

"I'm not a good man, Delaney."

"And yet I'm not wholly certain that you're a bad one," she countered, sipping from a glass of wine as he dog-eared the page in his book.

"A week ago you threatened to shoot me."

"And I meant it."

"You should always treat me with that level of suspicion. I'm a manipulative bastard and I'll stop at nothing to reach the endgame."

She observed him as he spoke. His face was hard. Cold.

"I believe that," she said. "I'm just not sure how I play into it."

"You don't," he said frankly and she blinked under the blow of his words. She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say but she expected to be of _some_ consequence to him. She had to be or he wouldn't have behaved the past week the way he had. He wouldn't have taken careful consideration to leave her ordinary life intact.

"I don't believe that."

"You're a means to an end, Delaney. If I had my way, you would never have been involved in this."

"And you're the king of half-truths, Ray."

"Then understand this. I will stop at nothing to accomplish that for which I set out to do. You don't play into this. If you're present and useful, fine. You begin to impede my progress and I will eliminate the problem."

"You'll eliminate me," she clarified.

"If that's what it comes down to."

"You don't protect your heart by acting like you don't have one."

"At least I have no naïve inclinations toward a person who no longer exists. And don't think for a moment that my heart plays into any of this."

"Feel better? Conscience clear?"

"My conscience is always clear."

"Good, then you should understand that I'm not intimidated or blinded by the immense level of bullshit you shovel out. You may stun people with your grandiose verbosity and tactical brilliance. You may depend on it to confuse them and shut them down. That won't work on me."

"Of course not, you're entirely too perspicacious."

"Don't condescend to me, Raymond."

"I wouldn't dream of it, darling."

"Stop trying to pick a fight. I won't fight with you."

"Of course not," he said with a patronizingly indulgent smile that dripped with arrogance.

With every fiber of her being she wanted to pick up his book and beat him with it but she knew that was exactly what he was going for. The return to reality apparently meant the end of their tacit truce. Instead of indulging her ire, she took a calming sip of her wine. If "number four" Raymond Reddington was going to be the one present for the duration of this tour, she was going to need something stronger than a lovely cabernet.

The early morning hours were upon them by the time they landed and got settled. Lane was incredibly grateful that they were in a safe house where they didn't have to make the pretense of being a couple. She didn't think she could feign her adoration for Four Reddington and she desperately needed a break and some decent sleep. She wordlessly followed Dembe to her room, forgoing any further conversation with Red. After thanking Dembe, she surveyed her room. It was quite spacious and elegant. There were boxes stacked in the corner—no doubt the files she had requested from both the FBI and her own office. She'd pursue them tomorrow. Tonight all she wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed. She found plush towels and all of the same toiletries she used at home in the bathroom. Red might be a Grade A jackass, but at least he was a considerate one.

Lane slept fitfully despite her utter exhaustion. Now that she was out of her comfort zone, every noise made her jump. Although she was quite prodigious in hand to hand combat, she would prefer to have a firearm. Hopefully her handler had thought to take care of that for her. After the fourth time she jerked awake, she gave up the idea of sleeping.

The weak light spilling through her windows suggested the day had already dawned. She changed into leggings and a tshirt and carried one of the boxes down to the study. She was halfway through the FBI case files when Red strolled in looking dapper and rested. She hated him just a little for that, knowing that she probably looked half dead and penurious.

"Productive morning, I see," he said with a raised brow.

She made a sound of agreement as she continued to read the file on Lord Baltimore. She felt a twinge when she saw Carla Reddington, aka Naomi Hyland, had made an appearance in the pursuit of Red's list. She had never been a fan of Ray's wife but she felt sympathy for the torture she'd had to endure at the hands of Milos Kirchoff. Lane was deeply engrossed when a plate of breakfast food appeared before her. With an involuntary jerk, she looked up to find Red holding it out to her.

"You need to eat," he said gruffly, removing the dossier from her lap and replacing it with the plate.

"Thanks," she said, grudgingly, resituating to sit cross-legged. Red glanced at the file and tightened his jaw when he saw a picture of Naomi. He flipped it shut with a snap and dropped it on the end table next to her. "I'm sorry that happened to her."

"Are you? I rather thought you hated my wife," his tone was short. Sharp.

Tired and pissy, Lane stood and dropped her plate on top of the file unceremoniously. She wasn't in the mood for his crap today. He snagged her arm as she stormed past him. She stopped and held herself perfectly still, first looking at his hand clasped around her upper arm, and then giving him a go to hell look.

"You don't know the first thing about my feelings toward your _ex_-wife. I suggest you remove your hand before I do it for you."

"Sit down and eat your breakfast, Delaney," he said in that no-nonsense, I'm-not-used-to-being-argued-with tone. They continued to glare at each other for countless moments before he finally huffed a frustrated sigh and let her storm out.

"Dembe, she and Lizzie are going to get along famously," Red said with an exasperated shake of his head.

"I think you may be in trouble, Raymond."

"Me too, old friend. Me too."


	7. Chapter 7

**7: Upside Down**

"I really appreciate you doing this, Liz. I couldn't stand being cooped up for another second," Lane said.

"No problem. It's not like I can do much in a hotel room on a Sunday night anyway. You can claim this conference room for the time being," Liz replied, balancing boxes on her knee and freeing up a hand to open the door.

"I can't believe how big this place is."

"Right? Apparently it used to be some kind of sorting facility for mail. We've got about everything you could possibly need."

Lane dropped her boxes on the shiny conference table next to the ones Liz carried in. The wall behind her was covered in windows that looked out into the facility. The one across from her was wall to wall whiteboard, something she was gratified to see. The other two walls were filled with cork boards and monitors. It was basically what they called a war room at her office and it was exactly what she needed.

"How have things been with you and Reddington?" Liz asked, curiously watching her as she moved certain boxes to the small couch so they'd be out of the way. Lane shot her a look and Liz laughed. "That good?"

"That man is making me insane."

"He has that ability," Liz agreed.

"I was pissed when I figured out what Ressler had pulled off. Once we got to New York, though, it wasn't that bad. He was _almost_ like the Ray I knew. Or at least he was what I imagined the Ray I knew would have become. You know? But since last night, he has been an absolute dick and I don't even know why."

"He does that sometimes."

"Well, it's maddening."

"It is," Liz agreed with a dry chuckle. "It's a defense mechanism. He'll relax as soon as you get into a routine."

"Is that even possible with Raymond Reddington?"

"Well. No. Sort of. I don't know. It'll be a new normal, anyway."

"If you say so," Lane said with a heavy sigh. "I've been going through the case files. You guys have done some exceptional work."

"I like to think so. Can I help? You look like you have a method here," Liz said, examining the way Lane was ordering the case files on the table.

"I'm kind of obsessive when it comes to deep cases like this. I like to read the files first. Kind of to get a feel for everything. And then I go back and read them for content. Then I organize them depending on whatever I'm trying to figure out."

"I do that too. Ressler just dives in and makes four billion notes. _Way_ too chaotic for me."

"Me too. I have to have the logic of it in my head or I'll never work it out. When it comes to this, however, I can't quite get a grasp on it."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a puzzle but we don't have all the pieces and we don't have the picture to look at. Does that make sense? Like, I know these things have to fit together but I don't have the means of making them until I have all the pieces."

"Makes perfect sense. Want to spitball it for a while? I don't have anywhere to be and maybe with my current knowledge and your past knowledge, we can figure it out."

"Whatever 'it' is."

"Right. Let's start with the questions you have. Some must come up during your studies."

"Well, the most obvious is—why the blacklist? Why is he pursuing it? How many people are on it? What's the end game?"

"I'm not sure we have any real answers to any of those questions," Liz said, picking up a dry erase marker and listing the questions on the far corner of the board.

"My next question is what caused Ray to disappear? I think that's the one that bothers me the most."

"I'd like to know that myself. And how I fit in," Liz said, expanding on their list. "Why me? What connection do we have? It's become clear to me that I play some role in this but I don't know what."

"Can I ask you a question?" Lane asked, crawling up onto the conference table and putting her feet in a chair.

"Shoot," Liz said as she finished listing questions.

"What is your impression of Raymond Reddington? Not your first impression but the one you work from now. You're still here so there has to be something that keeps driving you forward after all you've gone through."

"When this first started, I was terrified and disgusted by him. It was completely unsettling and upsetting how much he knew about me. About my life. It became clear to me pretty quickly that I'm important to him. I still don't know why. Honestly, I was hoping you could shed some light on that, but the Red I know now—I'm not a hundred percent certain he's the monster he's supposed to be. There's no doubt that he's a cold-blooded killer, a sociopath in the strictest sense of the word. But I don't believe that's his nature. I believe it's been honed out of necessity. I find myself at war with the dueling ideas of him being the victim of some awful conspiracy and me being the victim of some sort of delusional hero complex."

Lane studied her for a long moment, her head tipped to the side. Liz was a pretty, vivacious young woman. There was no doubt that she was intelligent. From what Lane could tell, this woman had gone through a living hell over the last year and a half yet here she was. Still fighting alongside the man who'd caused it all to unravel.

"You care for him," Lane stated. There was absolutely no judgment in her tone. It was merely a statement of fact and she could see a flicker of thankfulness in Liz's blue eyes.

"I do," Liz almost whispered. "I don't know when or how it happened. I know it's probably sick on some level…."

"I don't think so," Lane interrupted. "When he's just being sincere…."

"Yes," Liz agreed even though neither of them could quite verbalize what it was about Red that made him so sympathetic.

"I see that."

"Were you close? I mean, I know that your brother was his best friend but that's really all Ress said."

"My dad was a diplomat. We spent basically the first six years of my life moving around to different embassies in Europe. We came back to Massachusetts when I was six. Danny was starting his junior year in high school. He and Raymond became best friends. Ray didn't have the easiest home life. He spent most of his time with us. He even had his own room. He and Danny got into the Naval Academy together. Of course, Ray went Navy and Danny followed in Dad's footsteps by becoming a Marine."

"What was he like back then?"

"Well, I was so much younger that I often felt ignored. But really, Ray was sweet and funny and a smart ass. I equal parts loved him and hated him, just like I did my brother. Once they went to the Academy, they weren't home much. Then after that, of course, they were never home. They got stationed elsewhere and we only saw Ray once in a blue moon. He was brilliant, he was moving toward big things, and we all knew it. When I was fourteen, we moved to Virginia. I was nearing the end of high school when Ray moved back. He was married to Carla by then and they had Jennifer."

"I met her. She goes by Naomi now."

"I read about that case."

"What were they like?" Liz asked, curiously.

"To me they appeared miserable but that could have been me seeing what I wanted to see."

"What do you mean?"

"I was seventeen and he was a very, very handsome, successful naval officer I'd known most of my life. I had a brilliantly inappropriate crush on him and Carla knew it. She didn't like me. At. All. So were they really unhappy? I don't know. I just knew I didn't want him to be with that awful woman."

"I admit it was odd to see them interact. I assumed it was the years and tragedy and circumstances."

"They always felt odd to me but I think that's maybe because I had a picture of who Ray was in my mind and she didn't fit that. Looking back as an adult, it was probably horribly unfair of me. Not that my opinion really mattered. Once they were back, we got to see Ray more often. He came to family functions and such. I went to New York not long after that and then he disappeared two years later."

"That must have been difficult."

"It was devastating. He was as much a part of our family as we were. We mourned him. Then our lives just got completely turned upside down. My mother never really recovered. My father and brother were accused of espionage. Thankfully after all was said and done, nothing came of it, but life during that time was…impossible."

"That had to be a nightmare."

"You have no idea," Lane said with a heavy sigh. No one knew exactly what her family had been put through. Liz fidgeted with her marker cap.

"Do you know how Red knew me? I know he was there the night my father died. Did you know me?"

Lane took a deep breath. She'd known this question would come. She'd practiced her reply. Still, it was hard to look this woman in the face and tell her that she couldn't give her the solace she so clearly was searching for.

"Liz…I know that is something you must desperately need to know. I can only imagine how I'd feel in your shoes," Lane said, her voice hesitant. She could see the pain in Liz's eyes when she realized she was about to be rejected yet again. "Please trust me when I say that Ray only wants what's best for you and he will tell you everything when he feels like it is safe."

"I don't believe that," Liz said.

"I'm sorry. I can't betray that trust."

"Lizzie? Laney?"

It was Red and he sounded furious. Exchanging puzzled looks, they stepped out into the main area. Red was pissed alright. It all but radiated off of him. He stalked toward Lane, fire in his eyes.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" he growled, giving her a hard shake.

"Reddington," Liz objected.

"I'll deal with you in a minute," he said, cutting his eyes to hers. Her mouth snapped shut as he turned his focus back on Lane.

"I've been here working with Elizabeth."

"You left. Without word. Without a note. You didn't even take your damn cell phone. I thought…I thought something happened to you, damnit."

"You left me stranded and I needed a change of scenery."

"Don't you _ever_ do that again. I mean it," he said, giving her another shake.

"I suggest you remove your hands," the fury in her voice was powerful. She didn't appreciate being manhandled.

"What?"

"That's twice you've put your hands on me. It won't happen a third time," she said, glaring at his bruising grip. His hands released her immediately.

"I'm sorry," he said, tiredly, seeming to deflate. "You scared the hell out of me. And you."

"Me?" Liz all but squeaked.

"Why the hell aren't you answering your phone?"

Liz patted her pockets and then looked around blankly.

"I must have left it in the car when we were gathering up boxes," she said, lamely. She felt like she was about to get grounded. Red flung himself into a nearby chair dramatically, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Do I need to remind you both of the gravity of our situation? This isn't play time. You both have targets on your backs. Because of _me_. So I'd appreciate if you could manage to answer the damn phone and let me know you're okay when I can't find you!"

"Sorry," Liz apologized, sheepishly. Red turned his head toward Lane, eyebrow lifted expectantly.

"I'm not apologizing," Lane said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"Laney, you can't just run off when you feel like it."

"Actually, I can."

"Can you just not be so _stubborn_ right now?"

"I had work I needed to do. You left without so much as a goodbye and I had no mode of transportation. Liz was available and willing to help so here we are. I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Fine, I don't need an apology. The damage is done. You've stolen fifteen years from my life, _at least_. But can you please not do that again? I need to know you're safe."

"Does it really matter?"

"Of _course_ it matters! I've known you for 37 years. That matters!"

"Fine," she said, her lips quirking. He narrowed a green glare at her.

"You're enjoying this."

"Maybe."

"I can't even look at you right now. Dembe and I will be downstairs. Don't make me come back up."

He stormed out and Lane shot Liz an amused look.

"What just happened?" Liz asked with a stunned chuckle. "I don't think I've ever seen Red that…frustrated."

"Sometimes he needs to be reminded he's not the center of the universe," Lane said with a grin.

"He faces life and death situations daily but I have a feeling that you're turning his world upside down."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Reviews! Yaaaaaay! Totally makes my whole day when I get those little rays of sunshine in my email! I'm going to change the rating to M because language. Just fair warning if you're sensitive to such things. **** Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. It really does make me happy!**

**8: Ties That Bind**

Lane didn't push her luck by making Red wait too long. She desperately wanted to take her own car but she knew it made little sense with them moving around so much. At least it would be at the office if she needed it.

"Thanks, Dembe," she said when he got out to open her door.

"Raymond was worried about you."

"I know he was. I'll be more careful," she promised him before she slid in.

Red didn't turn his face away from his window or acknowledge her but she could see he was chewing on the inside of his lip. She didn't say anything until they were on the highway. Feeling like a brat, she took a deep breath and let it out. Sometimes her impulse to rebel got the better of her.

"Raymond," she said softly, putting her hand on top of his. He glared down at their hands and then up at her. "I'm sorry. I was being impetuous and selfish. I didn't think you'd really care."

"How can you _possibly_ think that?"

"I mean, you've kind of been an ass the past 48 hours," she said, raising a brow.

"That doesn't mean I don't care. It means I'm preoccupied and concerned about having you fully involved in this."

"Then why can't you just say that?"

"Because that's not what we do!"

"Do we have a way we 'do' things? We've definitely never done this before. We kinda get to define this, you know?"

"Delaney, I can count on one hand the number of people I carry a true affection for," he said, flexing his hand under hers. "The people I truly care about are fewer still. I…I don't know how to express that any more. Nor do I think I should. The last thing I should want for the people I care about is to be plagued with someone like me."

"Don't ever say that to me again," she said with fire in her eyes and ice in her heart as she saw the honest devastation in his eyes.

"It's true. I've already lost two women who were assigned protect me. What would I do if that happened to you? There is no way I could live with that and the fact that it's highly likely to happen again makes me about the most selfish bastard to walk the earth. If I was any kind of man, I'd walk away from you and Elizabeth right now."

"You don't get to make that call, Raymond," Lane retorted, angry. "Liz is a grown woman. She knows the risks. She's here because she _loves_ you. Maybe you don't want to hear that. Maybe you're not ready but it is what it is. You can't waltz out of her life again. Or mine. I don't completely grasp what has happened the past twenty five years but I know what my gut tells me. You don't get to decide if I'm getting too close for comfort. If I care too much. There's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"It's not that simple."

"It's absolutely that simple. You're not alone any more. You'll never be alone again. Whatever you're wrapped up in, we will figure it out together. I don't give up. I _won't_ give up. I have a feeling Liz would say the same exact thing."

"That's not what I want," he ground out, his hand forming a fist.

"Tough."

"You're so pig-headed."

"Yep. Get used to it. I need you to know that Liz asked me about her connection to you."

She felt him stiffen in the dark, could see the hardness in his face as the street lights flashed across it. She could see now, past the threat and anger to the bone deep fear. Fear that Liz would find out. That she'd reject him. That she _wouldn't_ reject him.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her that I knew she must be struggling with it and that I understood how hard that must be. I also told her you'd tell her when you felt it was safe for her to know and that I wouldn't betray your confidence in me."

"Thank you," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"I made a promise to you. I never told another soul—not my family, not any of the agents that interviewed me. Not even when Carla accused us of having an affair and they threatened to throw me in jail for harboring and as an accessory."

"_What_?" Lane didn't feel like it required a response as he turned to her fully, searching her face in disbelief. "Tell me you're exaggerating."

"I'm not and I have zero desire to discuss this with you tonight. I get that she was someone you put on a pedestal and that she will always be that for you. And fine. Whatever. But don't _ever_ expect me to view her as anything other than what she was to me. The point is, even when hell rained down around me, I didn't betray you. Give me some credit and trust me."

They pulled up to the safe house. Dembe walked ahead of them to open the house up and check it. Ray reached out and took Lane's wrist gently, stopping her. He tugged until she had turned toward him. In her tennis shoes, she had to look up at just a little and in the dark, his shadow seemed a little larger than life.

"You _will_ tell me the whole story," he said, gently. "Not tonight, but soon."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Raymond."

"It matters to me," he said, ducking a little to catch her gaze and forcing it back up to his.

"Why?"

"Because I never wanted bad things for you. I want to know the truth."

"Then realize that's what we all want," she said, softly. He flinched a bit as if that tiny realization was a physical blow. "You matter. Accept that."

"I don't think I can."

"I'm not sure you get that choice."

He turned and started to walk toward the house, deep in thought. His name on her lips stopped his forward progress.

"It scares me that you'll disappear again and that this time will be forever. Just…just please don't do that. Promise me." Her voice was so small and sincere that it almost broke him.

"I can't make that promise, Delaney," he said, his voice thick, his eyes glistening as he turned back toward her for a moment. She felt like she was suffocating as she watched him retreat inside, tears in her eyes. She didn't know if she could do it again—allow herself to be close to him only to have him walk away without a word.

X X X

Liz was dead to the world when her phone started ringing early the next morning. She reached for it blindly, trying to stop the offending noise.

"'lo," she mumbled, face half in her pillow.

"Lizzie."

His voice was unexpected and she pushed up to her knees immediately.

"I told you to stop calling me, Tom," she said, heart racing. She hadn't spoken to him since he testified.

"I know, but I need you to listen to me."

"I'm really, really done listening to you."

"Lizzie, you're in danger."

"Well, thank you, Captain Obvious," she sneered, pushing her bed hair out of her face.

"I'm serious. I need you to listen to me closely. I don't have much time. Tell Reddington he needs to look into Petra Kilesso."

"Who is she?"

"She is the director of a high risk, black ops task force. Their current mission is to take out anyone on your team that they deem a threat to the successful operation of the US government. They're calling themselves Strike Force Eight."

"How do you know this?"

"Because they recruited me after the Ames hearing."

"Of course they did."

"I really didn't have much choice, Liz. It was join or die."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Look, I have to go. I've told you all I know. Just …_please_ be careful."

He disconnected before she had the chance to say another word. She stared at the phone in utter frustration. God, how she hated that man. She jumped into action, showering and contacting Dembe so she could meet up with Red. She was at the safe house pounding on the door as the sun came up. Red answered, looking a little worse for wear. He was dressed in his usual three piece suit sans tie but his vest was open and the dark circles under his eyes bespoke his sleepless night.

"What's wrong?" he asked unceremoniously, green eyes searching hers.

"Tom contacted me," she said, stepping inside so he could close the door. Lane came to the top of the stairs, clearly having been dragged from bed, looking concerned.

"What's happened?" Lane asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"Let's go in here," Red motioned toward an office, leading Lizzie in with a hand on her back.

He waited for Lane to get down the stairs and enter before him. She shivered, frigid in just her tank top and shorts in the early morning chill. Liz remained standing as she waited for Red to pull a throw off the back of a chair and hand it to Lane before he sat on the dark leather couch, leaning forward. Lane wrapped up and sat close to him, feet pulled inside her warm cocoon.

"Tom called me," Liz said without preamble. She saw the anger creeping into Red's countenance.

"You've _got_ to get rid of that phone, Elizabeth," Red said sharply.

"Probably. He called to warn me. He said he was recruited by a black ops task force called Strike Force Eight. He said we needed to look into Petra Kilesso."

"He wants you to use your resources to do his dirty work for him now?" Red asked dryly.

"No. He called to warn me. This task force…it's been charged with eliminating our team. Specifically those deemed a threat to the successful operation of the US government."

Red pushed to his feet and walked over to a window, running his hand over the back of his head. Liz got up to move next to him, leaning against the window so she could see his profile even as he stared past her.

"This has to be about The Fulcrum, right? The blackmail file?"

"Yes."

"I can't keep working with half-baked theories because you won't bring me into this a hundred percent."

"Lizzie…." His voice was placating but firm.

"_God_. Just _stop_," she said, throwing up her hands. "My life is _already_ in danger. I mean, it can't get much worse, can it? A fucking task force to kill us? Give me the ability to fight this. Or at least to know what I'm fighting for."

"It's not that simple."

"It _is_ that simple!" She threw her arm out to where Lane sat watching their argument unfold, worrying her lip. "Even _she_ has _some_ working knowledge. She at least knows how I play into this!"

"She doesn't," Red denied.

"Ugh, I'm so sick of this constant mindfuck with you!"

"Elizabeth," Red called as she stormed out.

She didn't stop, just slammed the door with flourish, done with it all.


	9. Chapter 9

**9: Monsters**

"I can hear your censure from here," Red said dully from his spot next to her on the couch.

"You're giving me a lot of credit for six a.m.," Lane replied, leaning her head against his shoulder with a yawn. He absently pressed a kiss to the top of her head, startling her a bit. He must be pretty emotionally wrought to allow himself that small affection.

"This is more complicated than I ever imagined."

"Matters of the heart always are, Ray," she said, scratching her nails over the fine hairs on the top of his hand without thought. "Have you slept since we've been back?"

"Not much."

"How can I help?"

"Stop wearing skimpy pajamas around the house?" he quipped, as he was wont to do when things got too serious. She elbowed him the side and he chuckled.

"I don't believe my nighttime attire has a single effect on you."

"Lane, you're an exceedingly attractive woman and I'm not blind."

"You sure? Cuz I've often wondered," she said with a laugh. She felt him shake his head and could imagine the half smile on his mouth even though she didn't bother to look. "Seriously, how can I help?"

"I don't know that you can. This changes everything."

"Not really."

"It's a goddamn kill squad."

"So it has a vague face and catchy name. It gives us a specific target to focus on instead of worrying about every shadow, right?"

"You don't know the scope and power of these people, Laney. These aren't going to be your typical flunky thugs. They will be trained assassins."

"And I have a feeling that, with the exception of the computer guy, the boss, and Liz, most of us have some pretty extensive combat experience. We can hunt them down."

"There is no 'we' in this." His voice hardened measurably.

"Let me just stop you right there. Your way isn't working. So we're going to do it this way."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"I'm still having a hard time imagining you as anything but a very talented actress."

"Then I'm truly better than you think if I've got you snowed. I assure you, I have been trained better than you could possibly imagine. You need me. You know I'm right about this."

He heaved a heavy sigh and shifted her off his shoulder with a nudge so he could stand.

"Go get ready. We have some trees to shake."

"And what role am I playing?"

"Expensive, brilliant, affluent companion worthy of Raymond Reddington, of course. Wear that lovely cerulean silk top that does that thing to your eyes."

"What?" she asked with a startled laugh, standing, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.

"It's positively mesmerizing. See? I notice," he said, kissing her cheek impishly before taking his leave.

X X X

Being Raymond Reddington's companion had a certain je ne sais quoi. He commanded a room with his mere presence. People were drawn to his vivacity. He could charm anyone with a statement and a smile. It was ridiculous how charismatic and engaging the man could be when he put his mind to it. Underneath, though, Lane knew it was all a façade—a means to an end. She knew without a doubt that he could turn it off just as quickly. The Mr. Congeniality ruse only went so far.

For a man who lived off the grid, Red certainly had a lot of connections. Or at the very least, he knew the right people to catch off guard to get just the information he was looking for. Lane stood shoulder to shoulder with Dembe while Red exploited one such connection, trying not to think about the half dozen laws they'd broken already this morning.

"Raymond Reddington. What an _unpleasant _surprise," sneered the older man in a silk robe.

"Careful, Michael. You'll hurt my feelings," Red said with a deceivingly pleasant chuckle, resting his hat on his knee. He was leaned back in the leather wing-backed chair looking for all the world like he owned the place and hadn't just committed two misdemeanors to get there.

"What do you want, Reddington?"

"Talk to me about Strike Force Eight." The man sitting across from his tipped his head back and laughed.

"If you're dealing with SF8, you're better off asking for help from above because you're fucked."

"My idea of 'help from above' is a sniper on the roof. Tell me what you know," Red retorted, unamused.

"SF8 is the best and most brutal covert kill team this government has never utilized. They're ruthless and methodical and allow for total deniability. They're the monsters your worst nightmares are made of."

"How many are on the team?"

"Now why on earth would I tell you that?"

"Because I asked nicely," Red said, his voice hardening by degrees.

"You'll have to do better than that," Michael said, standing to leave.

So quickly that Lane almost didn't see him move, Red was on his feet with a pistol pointing at the man's head. Lane took a step toward the men but Dembe grabbed her wrist in a gentle but unbreakable hold. He shook his head at her once and let her wrist go.

"How's this?" Red asked. "I'd hate to put a bullet in your skull, Michael. I feel sure my companion would object and I strive not to offend her delicate sensibilities."

"Any woman that whores around with you, Reddington, doesn't have the sensibilities God gave a goat," the man retorted.

"You can shoot him," Lane snapped. Red's lips quirked with amusement although he didn't turn his attention away from his target.

"She has a vindictive streak."

"You and your lady friend can go to hell."

"All in due time. How many?"

The man just laughed smugly. Lane could see this was going nowhere fast and she sensed there was a very real possibility that Ray would put a bullet in this guy's head. She decided that while she wouldn't cry if Ray shot the bastard, she probably should offer another less lethal route.

"Raymond?" she asked conversationally, moving toward the men.

"Yes, darling." His attention never wavered.

"Have I ever told you about my time in Mogadishu?"

"Mogadishu? Really? Wretched area."

"Indeed," she agreed. "However, I learned some very useful things during my time there." She motioned Ray to step back a bit with her head before she took Michael to his knees with a neat little thumb lock. The old man grunted. "There's this nerve under your jaw that, when combined with pressure to another nerve at the base of the skull, makes it feel like your head is coming apart."

"Fascinating."

She squatted down in front of the old man and tilted her head sideways. He snarled at her and she just sent him a pursed-lip smile, flashing her dimples.

"Aw, look at him," she tsked, glancing up at Red. She didn't miss the amusement flashing in his eyes. "I don't know if he could withstand the pain without his poor, geriatric heart giving out on him."

"Fuck you," the man snarled.

"Now that's no way to talk to a lady," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You know, the thing about government created monsters is that they're all the same underneath. It's really just the degree of creativity and humanity that separates the bad from the worst. Honestly, I've always been an imaginative soul. I think a kill shot to the head would be too easy. Personally, I'd shoot you right here." She tapped a spot under his chin. "That bullet would scramble your brains nicely but probably wouldn't kill you. Of course, it wouldn't be much of a life—drooling, pissing yourself, unable to control your own body. It's probably a good thing that he's the one holding the gun. Funny thing, though. Raymond _does_ like to accommodate me when he can. Probably you should just answer the fucking question before I lose my cool."

When he failed to act quickly enough, Lane held her hand up to Red. Reluctantly, he handed her the pistol. She positioned it under Michael's chin with a pleasant smile.

"See?" She saw the flicker of fear behind his eyes for a fleeting second and knew she had him. "How many are on the team?"

"I don't know," he gasped when she jammed the barrel of the gun against the soft tissue under his chin. "They have a number of people at their disposal when and if they are needed."

"And who makes that decision?" she asked.

"Squad leader…They call him Wraith." Lane paled.

"Impossible."

The man chuckled as Lane stood. She shoved the pistol back into Red's hand and left the room. Red wasn't far behind her by the time they reached the car. He turned to her as soon as Dembe started the car.

"Well that was…enlightening," he said, a hint of something she couldn't name in his tone. "Care to explain to me what I clearly missed?"

"He's either lying or misinformed," she said flatly, brushing an invisible spot off her pencil skirt.

"He seemed pretty inclined to tell the truth with a gun shoved under his chin. Why do you think he's lying?"

"Because I killed Wraith five years ago."


	10. Chapter 10

**10: Awkward Hug**

"Wanna tell me what has you all twisted up, Keen?" Ressler asked from his place across from her in their office. She threw down her pen in frustration.

"I'm so _sick_ of having zero control over my life," she growled, pushing to her feet. With a raised brow, Ress leaned back in his chair to watch her pace. It wasn't often he saw her so worked up.

"I get that," he placated.

"Tom called me this morning," she blurted unceremoniously, knowing she had an ass chewing coming.

"_Damn_it, Liz." Ressler pushed to his feet.

"I know. I know. Get rid of the phone. I've already had my lecture this morning," she said, waving him off.

"That explains the…" he retorted, fluttering his hand at her general discord.

"Yeah."

"So what did the illustrious Mr. Keen have to say? I take it he's not dead."

"Clearly," was her dry retort. He squint his eyes at her. "He wanted to let me know he's been recruited by some black ops kill squad to kill the members of this task force."

"_What?!_"

"Yeah. Cuz things haven't been eventful enough lately."

"Jesus, Keen. You really know how to drop a bomb."

"Sorry. I'm no expert in telling someone they have a hit out for them."

"Probably should have led off with that."

"Well, now you know."

"I _knew_ I should've been nicer to him. Bet he's the one to put a bullet through my heart."

"Can we not joke about this?" she asked, pained.

"Wasn't really joking," he muttered.

"_Nothing_ is going to happen to you," she said forcefully.

"Keep getting butt hurt about it and I'll start to think you care."

"Of _course_ I care, you idiot," she snapped, throwing her hands up. "What is it with men questioning where I stand lately? Am I allowed to give a damn? I mean, really. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Whoa. Ratchet down."

"Ratchet down? Really?"

"Do you need a hug? I feel like we need to hug this out. It's the only way to salvage this situation."

"Don't," she half growled, half laughed as he invaded her personal space and pinned her arms to her side in a massive hug.

"See? Isn't this better?"

"This is the most fantastically awkward thing I've ever experienced in my whole life," her muffled voice replied from the depths of his chest.

"It's okay to admit that you like it, Keen."

"When you're done with this highly inappropriate public mauling, we're going to have a briefing," came Lane's amused voice from the door.

"Just one more second," Ressler said, holding up a finger. Erupting in laughter, Liz pushed him away. He grinned at her and motioned her to exit before him. None of them missed Reddington's glare. "Uncle Red might beat Tom to killing me."

Liz's elbow caught him in the gut. The grins faded quickly enough as they gathered around. Lane had Aram put pictures up on the screens of a Mediterranean looking male. A couple showed him dressed out in full tactical gear and some just appeared to be casual, personal pictures. He looked comfortable and intimidating in his tac gear.

"This is Rafael Luciani. Ex-Delta Force. Ex-CIA," Lane started.

"Ex-boyfriend?" Red asked, eyeing the personal pictures and earning him a glare from Lane before she continued.

"Oh, I've heard of this guy. He was kind of a bad ass before he went off the reservation and the Agency put him down, yes?" Samar asked.

"Yes. More specifically, before _I _put him down," Lane said, her voice sounding odd. Ressler gave her his undivided attention.

"Wait, 'put down' as in he's dead? Then how is he involved in this?" Liz asked, confused.

"According to Ray's source, the SF8 squad leader is an operative named Wraith. That was Luciani's handle."

"How can that be?" Ressler asked. Lane shrugged.

"I don't really know. What I do know is that I put a bullet in his chest five years ago and he was declared dead. If Luciani is alive and well, you can count on this being a singularly focused team. He is, hands down, the best operative I've ever worked with. He's a weapons expert, a tactical expert, and if he's aware of the nature and makeup of this team, you can bet that he's chomping at the bit. He'll see it as personal."

"I'd see it as personal too, if you shot me," Aram quipped. Lane shot him a look.

"That's not the only reason is it?" Reddington asked, tilting his head in that manner that said he was seeing a whole lot more in someone's body language than anyone else was reading.

Ressler watched Lane's eyes meet and hold Reddington's for a long moment before she gave a small shake of her head. Ressler exchanged looks with Liz. He'd noticed that Reddington and Lane operated on a different level with each other. Ressler found it fascinating. He'd been studying Raymond Reddington for years. Hell, he'd worked closely with him for the past 18 months. Liz made Reddington vulnerable but fiercely protective. Lane made him human. As impervious as Raymond Reddington's façade appeared, even his armor had chinks.

Not that Ressler didn't get it. He'd experienced Reddington's paternal instincts toward Liz first hand for months. Whatever connection they shared or didn't share biologically, Reddington's top priority was always Elizabeth Keen. Lane had Reddington on a different level. There was an unquestionable rapport between them that Ressler hadn't seen Reddington share with anyone else. She could get under his skin quicker than anything Ressler had ever seen but she could calm him just as quickly. He'd seen Reddington watching her hotly with a desire that went beyond his usual lasciviousness.

"What am I missing?" Liz asked, looking between the two.

"Rafael and I were in a relationship," Lane said with a heavy sigh. "He was too domineering for my taste. He could be incredibly sweet and attentive when he chose to be but he could also be demanding and emotionally abusive. He wanted a deeper commitment from me than I was willing to give. He knew that I was distancing myself. Instead of examining his role in that, he found a scapegoat in Ray. It was his deepest belief that I knew more about Raymond's disappearance than I'd admitted. He believed that I was in love with Raymond and that we were having some sort of clandestine relationship. I don't pretend to understand what he was thinking but he was spiraling out of control at that point."

"How did that lead up to his death?" Samar asked.

"He became increasingly paranoid and confrontational with everyone. As far as I know, no one knows why. He began doing things on his own. One night he just lost it. He basically broke into my apartment and held me hostage. He believed that someone was after him. After that, he sort of disappeared. He began picking people off. He had to be dealt with. So…I dealt with him."

"So we should expect him to be a high functioning sociopath?" Liz clarified.

"Yes. He's strategically prodigious. According to Raymond's source, he has the best at his disposal. I advise extreme caution and vigilance. If you're alone, you're vulnerable. Rafael Luciani is not someone to be taken lightly."

"You have to do something about your living situation, Lizzie," Reddington said as the briefing ended.

"It's fine."

"It's not. Please let me get you into a place that is safe."

"No."

"Stop being pig-headed."

"Me?" she laughed incredulously.

"You're welcome to stay with me, Keen," Ressler offered, knowing that this was headed toward a fight.

"Or you can stay with us," Lane offered. "Ray's right, Liz. I know where you stand but this is about your personal safety."

"I'm a grown woman. I don't need either of you taking care of me. You're not asking Samar to find someone to stay with. You're not telling Ressler that _he_ needs someone to stay with him."

"I mean, I offered," he said, raising a brow at her. She glared at him. "I was hoping you'd protect me."

"There will be none of that," Reddington said, glaring at him.

"This is so stupid," Liz said, throwing up her hands.

"Look," Lane said over the din. "You'll stay with us until Ray can make arrangements for a place for you. If you choose not to stay there after this is over, that's your decision. Just, for now, give everyone the peace of mind of knowing your safe."

"She's right, Liz," Ressler replied earnestly. He could see that she was struggling with the idea but what Lane said made sense. Reddington looked like he wanted to argue the point further but Lane silenced him with a look.

"Fine, whatever," Liz huffed. She walked away from the group, her shoulders stiff.

Ressler knew she'd see this as yet another part of her life she had no control over. And while she was right, he'd feel much better knowing she wasn't in some roach motel being hunted by a psychopath with a grudge. He wished he could give her a legit hug and make her feel better, but he knew it would be unequivocally rejected. It would make him feel better anyway. For now, he'd just have to settle for stolen awkward hugs to make her laugh. 


	11. Chapter 11

**11: What Could Have Been**

Liz wasn't entirely comfortable playing house with Lane and Red but it didn't seem she had much choice. She was too tired to be pissed that Dembe had, upon Red's orders she was sure, packed up her hotel room and moved her to the palatial domicile Red and Lane would call home for the next two days. Red certainly didn't sacrifice comfort that was for sure. Her room was exceedingly ostentatious and very Raymond Reddington.

With a heavy sigh, she changed out of her work clothes and put on sweats and a tank top. Weary as she was, she was unsure if she'd sleep tonight. A freaking kill squad. The loss of any tenuous control she thought she might have on her life. It was all a little much.

Maybe she should have taken Ressler up on the offer to stay with him. At least they could have had some beers, maybe a pizza, and some basketball on TV to break the monotony of horrific thoughts tumbling around in her brain. If she hadn't felt the awkward judgment/threat emanating vaguely from where Red stood glowering, she could at least be relaxed right now. Her head shot up at the soft knock on her door.

"Yeah, it's open," she called. Lane stood at the door in leggings and a t-shirt, her hair in a God awful mess on top of her head. "What's up?"

"Well, Ray went out to do some secret squirrel stuff and there's a decent chance that I may never sleep soundly again. So I was wondering if you wanted to watch a chick flick with me and eat copious amounts of junk food?" She wrinkled her face and waved an iPad. Liz couldn't help but laugh.

"Sounds perfect but I'm not sure that Red would even think to stock this place with junk food."

"And that, my dear, sweet Elizabeth, is why I brought my own. I'm really glad you said yes or this would have been awkward," Lane said with a laugh, picking up a small bag next to her.

Liz watched with amusement as Lane came in like a whirlwind and jumped on to the bed with both feet before bouncing to her knees. Liz couldn't hold back a laugh as she crawled onto the giant sleigh bed. Lane nudged the bag at her while she set the iPad up on a little stand with a speaker. Liz dumped the bag out in front of where they sat cross-legged side by side.

"Ho-ly shit. This is amazing," she said, fanning out the boxes of cheesy crackers, little packages of chocolate and cookies, and boxes of candy that would have sent her into a sugar coma of happiness when she was a kid. "I didn't think dancers could eat this kind of crap."

"Meh, I don't do it often. Besides, we all need a night off now and then, right? How's Dirty Dancing?"

"Oh, I love that movie," Liz said, breaking into a pack of hot tamales. Lane helped herself to some out of Liz's hand and pushed play.

"You know, Ray actually took me to this when it came out…."

"What?" Liz gasped around hysterical laughter.

"Right?"

"I have a hard time seeing Red sitting through this movie."

"He did. The whole dang thing. I'm pretty sure he was plotting ways to end his life while we were sitting there," Lane laughed.

"How did you manage to talk him into it?"

"I didn't, really. He felt sorry for me. It was my seventeenth birthday. Danny was deployed, my parents were out of the country. He was between tours. He made a big deal out of taking me to dinner and a movie so I wouldn't feel alone."

"Aww."

"You know that really inappropriate crush? Pretty sure that's when it started but oh my gosh. Can you blame me? He was soooo dreamy."

They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

X X X

That's how Red found them when he got home an hour later. He followed their raucous laughter back to Lizzie's room. Lane was still sitting cross-legged, Lizzie laying on her stomach beside her, ankles crossed in the air behind her. Something about the scene did something to him deep inside. Under different circumstances…he gave his head a hard shake. It didn't do to think like that.

"Are you eating _junk food_? On the _bed_?" he asked from the door. Lizzie looked slightly guilty but Laney looked at him with her mouth ridiculously full of the orange crackers he remembered her loving from childhood. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"We needed a girl's night," Laney said, after a huge swallow of ginger ale to clear her mouth. He just shook his head in amusement at her.

"Oh my God, you're not," he said, when he recognized the movie. Lizzie and Laney exchanged looks and laughed. "I take it you told her?"

"Who knew you were such a sucker," Lizzie said, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Oh, I was. It was hard to say no to that face." Red laughed at the memory. "It was awful."

"But you saved my birthday and that's what mattered," Laney said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. He squeezed it back, knowing that he would have done anything for her back then to keep that heartbreaking look off her face.

"You ladies enjoy your movie, I'm going to bed," he said, unable to resist the urge to drop a kiss on both their heads.

Red was in bed reading when Laney came to bed a while later. He dropped the book on his chest and stacked his arms behind his head. She looked more relaxed than she had in days. Maybe it was good for all of them to have Lizzie with them for a bit. He certainly felt more at ease.

"Did they still stick Baby in the corner?"

"Indeed. You would think those overbearing daddies would stop trying to control their strong-willed daughters," she said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes at her and she just laughed.

"Did you enjoy yourselves?" he asked as he watched her brush her teeth and wash her face.

"Yep. Just what we both needed, I think," she said around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"I can't believe you smuggled in enough junk food to kill a horse."

"Don't judge me," she said with a laugh, crawling over him.

He had to resist the urge to put his hands on her and pulling her down on top of him. She sat cross legged on her side and dropped her hair brush into her lap. He watched her unwind her hair from the crazy mess on top of her head that he'd grown accustomed to her wearing at night. She dragged the brush through the snarls in her long, corn silk hair, the smell of her shampoo filling the air between them. It had only been a couple weeks since she'd been back in his life but he was growing dependent on these moments. She fit into his life in a way that both comforted him and scared the hell out of him.

"Exactly how many of my books _did_ you steal?" she asked, tapping the book laying on his chest.

"More than one," he said sheepishly. "Although I seem to recall you telling me I could help myself."

"True." She put her brush on the side table and flipped off her lamp. She turned on her side to face him, pulling the blankets up to cover her bare shoulder.

"Will it bother you if I read for a bit?" he asked, his voice little more than a rumble. There was an odd intimacy to the tone that she was growing accustomed to.

"Read to me?"

"What?" he asked with a startled chuckle.

"I'm serious. I love the sound of your voice. You can read me to sleep. Please?"

"God, not with the face," he groaned, dramatically. "Fine."

She scooted over to his side and he put his arm around her. He ran his fingers soothingly through her hair as he read to her. He felt her go lax by degrees as she drifted off. He marked his place and switched off the lamp. She mumbled a bit when he upset her spot. He turned on his side in the dark and pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. She settled with a sigh against him.

Red didn't make a habit of inviting women into his bed for more than a dalliance. It wasn't his style. He wasn't sure he wanted to examine the feeling he had holding her close to him in the dark. He prided himself on not needing anyone but he could allow himself to need this. And that made him weak.

In another life, maybe this could have been how they spent their lives—Lizzie close by and a happy part of their lives, holding Laney in his arms every night. Allowing himself to just be a normal man, surrounded by a loving family, doing the mundane things that most people took for granted. He could get lost in this. If it wasn't for the kill squad. And The Fulcrum. And 2017. All looming before him telling him that his days were numbered. That these stolen moments were all that he would have. That when the time came, he'd sacrifice himself once more for the people he cared about.

What might have been would never be. Could never be. He was nothing but a cancer to the happiness that lay before him and soon enough, he'd have to remove himself from it or he'd destroy them all.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews. It makes my day when I get those FF notifications! I'm so glad that someone out there is enjoying this. I hope not to disappoint. This next chapter is a little angsty and totally not what I intended to write but it just sort of wrote itself, so I'll let it stand…**

**12: Knight in Shining Armor**

Lane woke slowly the next morning. She hadn't yet grown used to sleeping with Ray. Some nights he slept fitfully, isolated on his side of the bed. Other nights they slept like a real couple, touching and cuddling throughout the night. It never failed, however, that he was awake and out of bed before she was. So when she realized she was still in his arms, she couldn't stop the abrupt pounding of her heart and the instant awareness that they were wrapped up in each other.

Her forehead was pressed against his chin, his hand tangled in her hair. One of her legs was cradled between his and his leg was thrown over her hip. One of her arms hung over his back and his other hand rested low on her waist. They fit together like puzzle pieces and it was at once comforting and unsettling. His arms tightened around her incrementally, shifting her closer to him as he faded into consciousness.

"Not yet," he murmured, turning his head slightly to brush his mouth against her forehead. She sighed and let herself float in the bliss between sleep and reality. If only this could be real life. Her thumb made soothing circles on his back mirroring the ones his fingers made on the bare skin between her shorts and tank top. "It's not supposed to feel like this. It shouldn't be this easy."

Butterflies danced in her stomach. At forty five, she didn't know she was still capable of those heart-pounding, rushes of emotions in moments of such incredible intimacy. Yet here she was, breathless with anticipation, feeling like she was twenty and crushing again. His hand shifted from her hair to cupping her cheek as he dropped soft kisses over her face. His mouth rubbed across hers, more caressing than kissing. He shifted his weight slightly, his hand tightening marginally on her cheek, before he took her mouth more firmly in a commanding kiss.

Lane's mind went completely blank as she became focused on his kiss. Like Ray, it was firm, authoritative, self-assured, and impossible to ignore. Desire fired through her veins as she open her mouth under his. His reaction was nothing short of carnal as he deepened the kiss and took exactly what he wanted. Her hand fisted in his shirt as he rolled her the rest of the way onto her back, his mouth traveling down her jaw before it found her neck. She arched into him when he nipped the sensitive spot where her neck curved into her shoulder.

"God," he ground out, his mouth finding hers roughly as his body pushed against hers, only the thin barriers of their pajamas separating them. His hand slid to down to her bare leg, pulling it up so he could settle more fully against her. His fingers dipped below the hem of her shorts, skimming the soft skin at the curve of her thigh. Her hand clutched the back of his head as she angled her mouth to kiss him more thoroughly. He moaned and ground into her. A small sound of appreciation hummed in her throat. She wanted him. Badly. Not like she had as a young woman but with all the burning desire of a woman who recognized that the wanton sensuality between them rare.

She reversed their positions, her hair falling around them as she continued to kiss him. His fingers dug into her thighs. She took his face in her hands, kissing him as thoroughly as he had her. He gripped her hips and ground against her once again as her teeth scraped down the sensitive curve of his jaw. He hissed when she nipped at his ear lobe but it quickly turned to a sound deep in his throat when she scraped her teeth along the tendon on the side of his neck.

"Delaney."

Her name was half sigh, half prayer from his lips and yet she knew exactly what was coming next. She sat up, still straddling him. His green eyes were stormy as they roamed over her face, drinking her in. He tucked the wild waves of her hair behind her ears. She allowed him to pull her face down to his for an impossibly soft, sweet kiss.

"We have to stop," he said when he broke the kiss.

_He doesn't want me_, thundered through her mind even as the evidence to the contrary pressed against her. She felt that wall of self preservation snap up and her face go blank.

"Of course."

She crawled off of him with as much grace and dignity as she could muster. She made it no more than three steps across the floor before his hand was on her arm, forcing her to turn back to him.

"Laney."

"I'm sorry," she said with a smile she knew didn't reach her eyes. It was the best she could do. "No need for explanations. It's easy to get caught up in the moment. No harm, no foul."

"That's not…"

"I'm going to go get ready," she said, trying to take her arm back.

"Damn it, Delaney. Let me speak," he growled, frustration practically dripping from his voice.

"Jesus, what do you want from me, Raymond? I'm trying to walk away from this with a little dignity. Just let me."

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I think you're under the impression that I don't want you and that's not it."

"Then what exactly is it?"

"I'm used to taking casual lovers, dalliances, with women who don't mean anything to me."

"Oh, God. _Please_ do _not_ give me the whole 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit. Do _not_ tell me you care too much about me to fuck me. I can't do this with you."

"_That._ That right there is why I stopped. Because I will not make this vulgar and sordid. I will not degrade you and I will not sully what is between us."

"This might shock you, Raymond Reddington, but I am a fully grown woman. I can make my own decisions and we are two consenting adults. I'm _not_ some twenty year old girl throwing herself at your feet and I _don't_ need you to protect my virtue."

"And you need to understand that I'm not going to use you because I'm…."

"Horny?"

"Not to put too fine a point on it, yes," he said dryly.

"If it wasn't me, we wouldn't be having this conversation. We'd both be in bed and a hell of a lot less frustrated right now."

"You're right. But it is you."

"I'm sorry that the idea of me is so repulsive to you."

"Don't be stupid. As you said, you're a grown woman. You know I want you."

"And yet, here we stand."

"I can't win here," he said, throwing up his hands.

"Can we just chalk this up to a stunningly shitty way to start a morning? I'm done and I want a shower." Her voice was tired and he could see the truth in the slump of her shoulders. She was almost to the bathroom when his voice stopped her.

"Was he right?" Ray asked.

"Was who right?" she asked, confused.

"Rafael Luciani."

"About?"

"Am I the reason you wouldn't commit to him fully?"

The question hung palpably in the air between them. Should she lie? Should she tell the truth? His face was unguarded and tired. There were moments when he was so defenseless, so totally vulnerable, that it almost hurt to look at him.

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me, yes."

She barely heard his response and she suspected he already knew the answer. He knew her fundamentally better than anyone else. Lying wouldn't change it. It wouldn't save her pride. It wouldn't be a kindness to either of them.

"Yes."

"_Delaney_," he said, turning away.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me," she said, stepping in front of him and putting a hand briefly on his chest to stop him. "I've loved you almost my whole life. I've been _in_ love with you since I was 17. I'm not ashamed of that. You were everything I thought a man should be—brave, honorable, kind, caring, devoted, loving. You taught me what I should look for in a man. What I should expect. That's not a bad thing."

Tears shone in his eyes as her words hit him. For a man who could wear the most impenetrable mask, his face could be immeasurably emotive. She could see the regret and pain there.

"It's not like I haven't loved other men or that I was unable to be in healthy relationships. Rafael Luciani was an abusive asshole. He wanted a girl who needed him. Who depended on him. I've never needed a knight in shining armor because mine taught me to save myself. He taught me to _value_ myself. He taught me how to pick myself up through crippling heartbreak and disappointment and keep moving forward. So, yes. You are absolutely the reason I couldn't commit to Raf and I'm grateful for that every day."

He closed the space between them, crushing her in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another, before burying his face in her hair.

"I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry I hurt you and I'm sorry I left you the way I did. I'm sorry I couldn't stay the man that you thought I was."

She didn't tell him he was wrong. She didn't tell him that she suspected he was exactly what she always knew him to be—a man who loved so deeply and unapologetically that he'd do anything to protect that love. She had been so immeasurably hurt by the way he'd left that she'd convinced herself that she was angry. She'd tried to tell herself she was a fool and that he was a monster and a traitor. She'd tried to convince herself over and over that he'd used her and her family.

Because the anger was easier than the broken heart and devastatingly crippling loss.

She didn't tell him that she forgave him. She didn't tell him that she understood his choices. She didn't tell him that she could find no fault in him. After all, what had she done in the name of her service to her government? Did that make her actions okay? If all the things he'd done had been to protect Elizabeth, as she'd grown to believe, could she fault him? Would she not do the same to protect her family?

She still didn't know the whole story. She didn't know if she ever would, but she was learning that she was okay with not knowing. She was beginning to trust him again. She believed that his moral compass still pointed north and that he was still a man of honor. She didn't know where Ray stood but she knew unequivocally where ever that was, she'd be by his side. She wouldn't let him fight this battle alone.


	13. Chapter 13

**13: The Middle**

Lane was in a sour mood when she joined the group after her shower. She had donned her favorite red pencil midi that had a sassy little trumpet flair in the back slit, a black silk top, and black ankle-strapped wedges. She'd even taken the time to dry her hair into soft waves that fell down her back like spun gold. The outfit made her feel attractive without over-exposing her body and making it look like she was _trying_ to get Ray's attention.

Firmly over the attention seeking for a while. Like a few billion years. If her ego ever recovered at all.

Mortification had settled in her belly like a stone, so she didn't quite meet Ray's eyes when she came into the dining room. She missed the flare in them as he ran his eyes over her willowy form that probably would have given her self-esteem some respite. Instead, Lane glanced at Dembe and Liz while she hovered uncomfortably in the entrance.

They were sitting together at the table eating some sort of breakfast sandwiches. Liz looked more rested than Lane had seen her. Lane didn't know what they had on deck today but she hoped it would keep her busy. She really, really needed to get her head into something besides the constant replay of the morning's events. She startled a bit when a plastic cup appeared in front of her.

"Peanut butter," Ray said, taking a sip of his own protein shake.

"Didn't you tell me it was ridiculous to drink my meals in New York?" she asked, her right brow arching as she took the cold, napkin wrapped cup from him.

"Maybe I was wrong."

"Maybe?"

"They're growing on me. You're a tad irascible this morning, darling."

"You're about to find out just how irascible I am, _sweetheart_," she retorted, narrowing her eyes at him. He tipped his head to the side and quirked his lips in a half smile that made her want to punch him and then kiss him. She rolled her eyes. "Bite me."

"Tempting," he said softly, stopping in her personal space for a breath as he passed through the doorway. His eyes caressed her face almost palpably before falling to her lips taking a pull from her straw. The heating of his eyes as he chewed the inside corner of his mouth was almost enough to make her think he was regretting his decision this morning. That thought didn't really make her feel better either.

She glared holes into his back as he made his way outside, sipping her shake, and plotting ways to hurt him without incurring Dembe's wrath.

X X X

Raymond's senses were reeling when he stepped outside. His body hummed with lust as the subtle smell of her lingered. He turned his face to the morning sun and took a deep breath of fresh air, hoping to erase the need coursing through his blood. Honestly, what had he been thinking? Delaney Ryker was unquestionably one of the most beautiful women he'd ever known. He cared for her. He wanted her. Hell, _she _wanted _him_.

Yet here he stood, calling himself twelve kinds of a fool.

He'd kept up with her career after he left. It became infinitely easier as social media took the world by storm. He'd known that she'd grown into a successful, strong, stunningly attractive woman. But she'd still just been little Laney Ryker to him.

She was no longer that. He almost wished she could be. It would certainly be easier. Now she was an intelligent, stunning, maddening woman he shared a past with. Age was no longer a barrier. Danny, her family, propriety—no longer an issue. There was absolutely nothing stopping him from indulging in an affair with Delaney Ryker.

Yet here he stood.

Was it the memory of who she had been to him? Not really. It forged a bond between them that he shared with no one else. She had quite literally saved his life. She'd only been twenty but even then the dynamic had already begun to shift between them. But the whole world had been on fire then and he'd left. He knew that had left a deep and lasting scar on her. It certainly had on him. He couldn't hurt her like that again and maybe that was the sticking point.

His unmitigated fear of what it would do to them both when this ended the way he knew it would. It had been so long since he'd been in love. He didn't believe he was capable of it any more. Still, a short time in her presence, and Raymond knew he could spend the rest of his life loving Laney. The more he was with her, the more he wanted to stay with her. It scared him to his very core.

He was a passionate man. He did everything with impassioned aplomb. He knew he would love Laney with a fervent vehemence that he wouldn't be able to control. Considering who he was and who was after him, it was terrifying to him. Overwhelming, really. If denying them both what they so desperately wanted protected her in the end, then he'd live out this torture happily knowing he was doing the right thing.

The steadying warmth of the sun on his face helped shore up his weaknesses and he felt steadier. Until he opened his eyes to find her leaning against the car, sipping her (admittedly delicious) protein shake, and glaring at him. Over the last weeks he'd seen her in various stages of undress—those distracting lacy sleep shorts, her dance clothes, even her stage lingerie. Nothing appealed to him quite as much as the picture she painted just then.

The breeze played with her soft curls as they gleamed appealingly in the sunlight, practically begging him to bury his hands in them. He loved that she was so tall and her playful little red skirt did something amazing to those long, lean legs. He'd never known he could find legs as appealing as he did hers. The black silk top fit her perfectly, accentuating her curves without displaying them audaciously. She'd left the top couple buttons unbuttoned but it stopped just above her cleavage. Everything about her outfit should be prim and priggish and yet all he could imagine was exploring those legs with his mouth and having them wrapped around his body.

"_Christ_," he muttered. She was turning him into a raging hormone. If he hadn't heard Dembe and Lizzie exit the house, he would have been sorely tempted to coax her back inside and back to bed so he could make up his blinding stupidity to her. Over and over and over.

Shaking his head, he got in the car. Lizzie sat up front with Dembe and Laney crawled into her own seat in the back with him. He cracked his window just a bit, hoping the rushing air as they drove would erase his awareness of her scent. If anything, it made it worse, dragging it toward the open window mockingly.

He reached over and took her hand as they'd gotten into the habit of doing in the car. For some reason, the physical connection steadied them both even when they were angry. He thought she might pull her hand away for a second but he heard her soft sigh and she relaxed marginally. He didn't look at her and knew she wouldn't be looking at him. He was just content to feel her small, soft palm in his, to run his thumb over her knuckles. It wasn't until they neared the Post Office that he finally broke the silence in the car.

"Lizzie, Dembe is going to work on securing the place I picked out for you today. I figured you and Donald had some stuff you need to work on, so Laney and I are going to check on a few things."

That earned him frowns all the way around. Dembe, because he was uncomfortable leaving Raymond to fend for himself. Lizzie, because she still wasn't comfortable accepting this small gesture from him. Laney…well probably because she was hoping for space he wasn't willing to give her.

He knew her well enough to know that when she was hurt, she drew in on herself and shut everything and everybody out. He wasn't going to allow that. She tried to tug her hand away but he refused, pinning her with a stare and pursing his lips in disapproval. She rolled her eyes and looked back out her window, letting her hand go completely limp in rebellion. He squeezed until she had to squeeze back to keep her bones from getting squashed. A smile ghosted his lips when she squeezed it an extra time to tell him to knock it off.

When they got to the Post Office, Laney went in with Lizzie to get her keys. Dembe made sure Raymond had a gun. Sometimes he was just like a mother hen and Raymond loved him for it. Dembe was brother and son all rolled into one.

"I don't like this, Raymond," he said.

"I know, my friend, but I need you to take care of Lizzie for me and Laney and I are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves."

"I still would like to see her in action before I put my faith in her."

"She seemed pretty effective with Michael and I know she can shoot. I trust her."

"I trust your judgement."

"We'll meet you back here this afternoon."

Lane returned with her keys. Dembe motioned her over to the trunk of the Mercedes and motioned to a hard shell black case. Raymond watched as Dembe motioned to her SUV and she nodded in understanding. She opened the back hatch and he transferred it over for her. Raymond was oddly moved when she reached out and touched Dembe's arm, no doubt reassuring him. She had a gentleness when it came to Dembe, much like she did with Lizzie, which he appreciated more deeply than he would ever be able to express. It gave him a small measure of comfort to know that if something ever happened to him, she'd take care of them. He felt that truth to center of his being and he loved her for it.

"Ready?" she asked, resigned to her fate. He climbed into the passenger's side, admiring how she managed to slide into the driver's side with a grace that shouldn't be possible in that skirt.

"I hope you drive better than the last time I rode with you," he quipped, startling laughter from her.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot about that. How did Daddy and Danny talk you into teaching me how to drive?"

"The promise of lots of alcohol and the threat of tears from you," he said with genuine laugh. "You were always such a happy kid and they were so rare, I could never deal with your tears."

"If only I'd known that was all it took," she teased, starting the car. Soft, poignant music filled the car as she pulled out. "Where to?"

"An old friend's."

"Why do I feel that this is going to be similar to yesterday's outing?"

"Because you have excellent instincts." She shot him an amused look. He was glad that she was seeming to shake off the funk of the morning. He motioned to the navigation system that took up the center console. "May I?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Head towards the Beltway and we'll see if I can program this damn thing. I'm not sure I will ever get used to the technology in vehicles these days."

"I might buy that if I didn't know your background."

He just hummed low in his throat as he navigated the various screens. She pulled out sunglasses and slipped them on, singing so softly with the radio he doubted that she even knew that she was doing it. He was content to listen to her smoky, soulful voice wash over him. After successfully programing their destination, he leaned back into the buttery soft leather of his seat. He rested his arm on the wide armrest between them and took her hand.

He watched the District bleed by, at once familiar and foreign. He felt strangely relaxed here in her car with her, surrounded by her scent and music and voice. It was so mundanely intimate. The dichotomy of feelings swirled around him, making him both melancholy and at ease. He reached over and turned the volume up a bit when Leonard Cohen's voice filled the car, perfectly matching his mood. He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed it against his lips for a long moment before he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, listening to her and just letting his mind float.

"Where are you?" she asked so softly a bit later that he almost didn't hear her. He turned his head to catch her gray eyes before she turned them back to the road.

"Caught somewhere between heaven and hell, I think," he replied just as softly.

"I guess there's no one I'd rather take that journey with."

He pressed another kiss to her hand, hearing the melancholia in her voice that he felt in his soul.

"The problem is, I don't want to carry you to hell with me, Delaney."

"The problem is, I'll follow you into the flames regardless, Raymond."

"That's not what I want."

"It's not about what you want. We're not your puppets, playing out this game for you. You can fight it or embrace it. You can hurt us by shutting us out completely or you can allow us to have a small piece of you. _That's_ what you get to control."

"And when this ends and I have to hurt you all?"

"Raymond, you're unquestionably brilliant but even you can't know what the future holds."

"But I can and it ends in my destruction."

"Forgoing my overwhelming urge to point out the flaws in that logic, let's say this does end in your 'destruction.' In whatever context you mean that, what is more hurtful—loving people at arm's length or falling in head first and having those memories to hold, however fleeting the time might be? _Life_ is a risk. It doesn't guarantee us a happily ever after and a death in our old age in the arms of our lovers. My parents didn't get that. I'm not on the road to that. So why shouldn't I want to take happiness where I can find it? Time is finite whether it's hours or years. It's what you do with it that defines a life, a friendship, love."

"You make it all sound so simple."

"It is that simple for me. I know I could wake up in the morning and you could be gone. Just like before. I can't say that it doesn't hurt or scare the hell out of me, but I can say beyond a doubt that if that's the case, I want to hold you through the night before you go."

"Why?"

"Because you're a piece of me. I wasn't whole when you left and I'll be broken again when you leave. Why should I stay broken when you're so close I can touch you? End result is the same, might as well enjoy the middle, right?"

"You break down my defenses. You make me weak."

"I make you _you_."

"I don't even know who that is any more."

"I know exactly who that is. You're going to make your own decisions, Raymond. You always do. You know where I stand. You know what I want. I won't pressure or demand or cry or pout. I'll wait forever even as I accept never. I always have."

Something about that statement rocked him to his foundation. It was probably the most honest, truthful thing anyone had ever said to him and _God_, it stirred such longing in his soul. He wanted to accept what she offered. He wanted to live in the moment for however long that moment lasted. He wanted to give her the world. He just didn't know how to do that anymore.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So I sat down to write this chapter and it ended up being super long. I went ahead and split it up and then wrote two more chapters! Sadly, most of the action is in the next one. Thanks for reading and for those who are still favoriting/following/commenting. You make my day! **

**14: Along For the Ride**

The colonial style house reminded Lane very much of her parents Alexandria home. She followed Ray up the front path. He waltzed up like he expected to be welcomed with open arms but the holster at the small of his back indicated otherwise. Her eyes swept the perimeter of the house. Everything appeared as would be expected of a typical suburban residence.

Ray situated his body so that it partially blocked hers from the door and rang the bell. She reached around his shoulder and placed her hand over the peep hole. He turned his face toward hers. He'd put that impenetrable mask on so she couldn't tell if he was amused or peeved. He was so close that she could see the flecks of blue in his green eyes and she could smell the subtle scent of his expensive aftershave.

The door swung open to reveal an elegant woman with steel gray hair that Lane recognized immediately. She was the former director of the Intelligence Bureau. As soon as her brown eyes alighted on Ray, a frown played across her features and she attempted to close the door in their faces. Lane's hand slapped against the slamming door a millisecond after Ray's and the door bounced back open.

"Now, Beatrice, that's no way to greet an old friend," Ray admonished with a tight lipped smile.

"Go to hell, Reddington," she snapped. Ray's eyebrow rose and he shot a look at Lane over his shoulder.

"I get the feeling I'm not welcome here," he said to her before turning back to the older woman and cocking his head. "We can make this unpleasant little encounter quick, Beatrice. Just tell me what I want to know."

He stepped inside and Lane followed him in, leaving the door cracked so she could see the street from her vantage point. He seemed to understand why she had positioned herself that way, facing both the upstairs landing and the street, and he bladed himself off toward Beatrice. It was a subtle tactical stance but she knew he was purposely setting his body to offer her more protection while she literally watched his back.

"You know I'm not going to tell you anything," the older woman snarled.

"I think you will."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I've been hearing interesting rumors about the Gakona facility."

The small twitch at the corner of the woman's eye, the slight flare of her nostrils, and the dilation of her pupils were all subtle tells that Ray had hit a nerve.

"HAARP was shut down a year ago," the woman said, her features now under control. Ray chuckled.

"Right. I feel certain the liberal media would just _love_ to get their hands on the risk assessment report you ghosted away not too long ago. I'm sure the first thing they will ask is why an assessment was necessary on a dead site. It'll probably go downhill from there."

"What do you want?"

"Tell me what you know about Petra Kilesso."

"Not much. She's former FSB, the new director of SF8 and from what I hear, they're exceptional. They're not your typical black ops task force. Their squad leader is a particularly nasty brand of assassin."

"Where do they get their team?"

"She recruits the worst the world has to offer. Gives them the opportunity to kill in exchange for their limited freedom. I'm talking men we'd lock in the darkest reaches of Gitmo. They're no joke."

"Where do we find them?"

"Even _I_ don't know where their main base of operation is. Because of the caliber of people they work with, they move around during ops. That's up to the squad leader to secure."

"What do they have at their disposal?"

"To eradicate you? Everything," she said with a smirk.

Lane's eyes stayed on a dark sedan with tinted windows as it cruised by. Recognizing a government issued vehicle when she saw one, she shifted just a bit. Ray's eyes immediately cut to her and she gave a slight head twitch to indicate they should go.

"It was lovely to see you again, Beatrice," he said with a dry smile. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Careful, darling, she won't hesitate to shoot me in the back."

He put his palm on the small of Lane's back and led her out. He removed her keys from his pocket and put them in her waiting palm. She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure the old bat wasn't really going to shoot them in the backs. Once in the vehicle, she went in the same direction as the car she'd seen, just in case they decided to circle around.

"Well, that wasn't as enlightening as I hoped," Ray said with a heavy sigh.

"Actually, I think it was," she replied, whipping them out onto the highway, her eyes on her mirrors, making sure they weren't followed.

"How so?"

"If Kilesso is former FSB, I can find out more about her. If her team is made up of government prisoners, we can start figuring out who she has at her disposal and which ones would be likely to be used in this mission. Kind of your specialty, isn't it?"

She hit the hands-free button and put in a call to Liz. The sound of the ringing filled the vehicle.

"Keen."

"Hey, it's me. Listen, can you get Aram working on a list of government prisoners? Not just ours, but worldwide—terrorist, freedom fighters. Anyone of that ilk that is currently imprisoned. Actually, a list of most wanted would be good too."

"Got it. I take it the shakedown was fruitful?"

"Time will tell but I think so."

"Fantastic. Are you on your way back?"

"Actually, we have one more stop. We'll be back this afternoon."

"Okay. Be safe."

"You too."

She hung and immediately called another number.

"Well, if it isn't my long lost ray of sunshine," answered a male voice, after two rings.

"Hey, Micah. How's my favorite computer geek?"

"Better now that I get to talk to you."

Raymond rolled his head toward her, the look on his face not amused. She winked at him, flashing a dimple with a pursed-lip grin.

"Can you work your magic and get me all you can on Petra Kilesso? She's former FSB. Just email me what you find."

"Anything for my favorite agent."

"Thanks, Micah. You're the best!"

"You know it."

She disconnected.

"Do you have an infinite ability to charm _every_one?"

"I learned from the best," she said, shooting him a plucky smile. He rolled his eyes.

"Would you like to fill me in on your plan, since clearly you have one?"

"Not really. I thought I'd just let you guess til we got there. It'll be more entertaining that way." He stared at her with an unreadable expression, making no comment. "And you said _I_ was irascible this morning."

"Delaney."

"You know, the funny thing about you first naming me? Sometimes it's a threat and sometimes it's the opposite of a threat. So when you say it like that? It's not nearly as effective."

"Want me to middle name you too?"

"Maybe."

"Delaney," he warned.

"Raymond," she mocked. He made a sound of frustration and she laughed with delight. "Okay, okay. Your BFF back there said that it was the squad leader's responsibility to secure a location for an active team. Raf used a warehouse on the docks in Baltimore a couple of times. I'm thinking it would be a good place to lure us to."

"Wait, what? Why would we allow ourselves to be lured?"

"Because I'm curious. He knows I'm curious and I'm betting he is too. I want to see exactly what we're up against."

"Because he's just going to tell you his game plan?"

"No. But while he's busy thinking he's more clever than I am, he'll likely slip up and reveal more than he intends."

"So we're just going to walk into the lion's den? That's not a very sound plan, sweetheart."

"Well, I thought we'd get lunch first."

"Oh, well. Then it makes perfect sense after all." The look on his face made her chuckle.

"Just trust me, okay?"

"It appears I'm along for the ride."

"Indeed," she said pluckily.


	15. Chapter 15

**15: The Wraith**

Ray settled back and enjoyed the scenery as she drove. He was certain she sang to every song on the radio. He was equally certain that he could listen to her sing all day long. He pulled her hand across the center console so that it rested against his hip. When they got to Baltimore, Lane found them a quiet, healthy restaurant for lunch.

"We've got to stop eating all our meals out," she said after they ordered.

"And what do you propose? This life isn't conducive to well-stocked refrigerators and kitchens."

"Well not when we're in hotels but some of the houses have had great kitchens. If we cook the first night and buy just what we need, we can plan leftovers for the second night and not be wasteful."

"Leftovers. Do you know how long it's been since I had leftovers?"

"Don't be a snob." That startled a laugh out of him.

"I guess I am a bit of a snob, aren't I?"

"You've definitely gotten used to the finer things."

"Very diplomatic."

"It's in my blood," she said with a wink, cracking open her water bottle.

"To clarify, you'll be cooking?"

"Unless you've learned to do more than burn water and make scrambled eggs," she laughed.

"Not really. Will you feed me more than rabbit food?" he asked when the waitress placed their salads in front of them.

"You like rabbit food," she retorted with some amusement.

"I do, actually, but sometimes protein is necessary."

"Deal."

"Then we'll make it happen."

"You don't always have to indulge me, you know."

"I_ do_ know but I enjoy indulging you and you ask for such simple things."

"I'm a simple girl."

"With a complicated mind."

"Not _that_ complicated. Just busy," she laughed.

"That's the God's honest."

They ate a relaxed lunch, just enjoying each other's company. Ray paid for their meal and they walked out hand in hand. He unlocked the doors and opened hers for her. He tugged her toward him, taking both her hands in his and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"I've missed you," he admitted softly. She was startled by his admission.

"I've missed you too."

They stood there for a moment, studying each other, lost in their own thoughts. He squeezed her hands before dropping them and moving around to the passenger's side. Anticipation began to mount as she drove them toward the bay.

"I really feel like we need a game plan, Delaney," Ray said, shifting.

"I don't really have one."

"We're just going to waltz in and see what we see?"

"In true Raymond Reddington fashion, no?"

"The difference is when _I _do it, I know what to expect."

"I _do_ know what to expect."

"Care to elaborate?"

"He'll challenge us but he won't kill us."

"Well, that's a relief," he said with dry sarcasm. "Better to limp home severely maimed than in a body bag."

"See? We are on the same page," she beamed.

"I'm not sure we're even in the same library." He pulled a mirthless face. She sighed.

"You're armed. We're fine."

"You're not."

"Armed? I don't need to be."

"That's a lot of faith in my abilities."

"If you let me get shot, I'll just haunt you the rest of your days."

"You will regardless and let's not joke about you getting shot, please."

"Raymond, just trust me."

He sighed heavily, looking out the window at the bay and tapping his thumb against his leg with nervous energy. She could practically feel the tension humming around them. She tucked the SUV behind some abandoned shipping crates. They'd have a ways to walk and she wished she'd dressed as an agent and not as Raymond Reddington's companion. At least the wedges were moderately comfortable and didn't make much noise, although her red skirt stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.

Even though she knew they really had nothing to worry about, she suddenly wished that she was armed. It was counterintuitive to walk into hostile territory unarmed. She slipped through a hole in the rusty fence surrounding the warehouse and held it back so Ray could step through. His demeanor was decidedly more predatory than she'd seen him and the change was interesting. She could see the badass he was rumored to be.

His hand went to her arm and he exerted enough pressure to move her body behind his. She wasn't entirely comfortable with the set up. While it would make sense for him to go first since he was armed, she knew that Raf wouldn't hurt _her_. She wasn't entirely certain that he wouldn't hurt Ray. She tried a door to no avail and they kept moving down the back side of the building. She motioned to a hole in the brick wall. It was barely big enough for Raymond to duck through. His hand appeared from the other side. She took it and stooped through.

The warehouse was dank and dark. Lane wiggled her nose a little, resisting the urge to sneeze. Ray gave a warning shake of his head. The warehouse was unnaturally quiet, only the sound of the wind coming off the bay whistling through. They definitely weren't alone.

Lane did a quick scan. They stood in what appeared to be the open main space. Along each side ran walkways for the second and third floors so that they formed a sort of U above the main floor. Concrete pillars, complete with peeling paint, thrust to the roof every forty feet or so. There were concentrated areas of forgotten boxes and debris everywhere. Ray stepped cautiously toward the pillars, knowing they'd be less exposed over there. His shoes scuffed almost inaudibly against the grime on the floor. A noise across and above them had him reaching for the gun at the small of his back under his jacket. He pulled it out noiselessly, taking a defensive posture.

Lane caught sight of something in her periphery just before it moved. She was turning toward the threat when he launched himself at her. She attempted to block his progress but he was too close. He had a gun pressed to her head before she could do anything else. Raymond had spun and had his gun trained on her assailant. The man's breath in her hair told her that he was almost totally hidden and Ray would have no clean shot. The look in Ray's eyes was nothing short of murderous.

"Drop the gun," the man said in a heavily accented voice.

"That's not going to happen," Ray ground out.

_Rule number one, never give up your weapon_, Lane thought, her mind racing.

"Put it down!" He shouted, digging the barrel into the soft skin between Lane's jaw and neck.

She tilted her head a bit and squeezed her eyes shut against the breath-stealing pain, refusing to make a sound. She met Ray's eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly, dropping her eyes down to the ground and back up. He seemed to understand even if the tick near his eye said he didn't like it. He held his hands out and placed the gun on the floor.

"Kick it over there," the man said with a jerk of his chin, gesturing away from where they stood. Ray did as he was told. "You really are the stupid bitch Wraith said you are. How arrogant you are to just walk in here."

"And how arrogant you are to think you control this situation right now," Lane said, catching movement above them. There were at least two men in the shadows of the second floor across from them and another adjacent to them on the third floor. The man laughed.

"I hold a gun to your head and you mock me?"

"Just stating a fact," she said conversationally. "Raymond?"

"Yes, darling?" He played along even though she was positive he was thinking of twenty different ways to dismember the idiot holding the gun on her.

"I thought you said these men were supposed to be the best of the best. This one isn't."

Ray shrugged negligently, taking a step in the direction she indicated with her eyes. _Thank God_, she thought. It should take him out of the sites of the other three. It also drew her guy's attention from her, which is exactly what she wanted. He swung the gun away from her and trained it on Ray.

"Don't move again," the man shouted.

"Really, with all the yelling. I'm standing _right here_. It's truly not necessary," Ray said, tilting his head, happy to be keeping the gun focused on him and away from Lane's head.

"Shut up!"

At his burst of anger, Lane smashed her head back into his nose. Her arm came up and over his gun arm and she exerted negative pressure on his wrist. He pulled the trigger as she disarmed him. It caused a volley of gunfire from his buddies. She swung and fired at the two across from them and then the third adjacent before turning back to the man whose nose she'd just broken. She didn't have time to consider the fact that she'd just taken out three men as the bleeding one bum rushed her. They back pedaled into the open floor.

Lane had extensive hand to hand combat training. Her aggressor was bigger than she was and more heavily muscled. She was at a disadvantage in heels and a tight skirt. He clearly had some training but she knew he wasn't as good as she was. She threw blocks and advanced into his personal space where it would be harder for him to land any real blows. She relaxed into her stance, letting his momentum and tension do the work for her. He would be used to fighting with bigger, bulkier men, not a slight but skilled woman.

He landed some good shots to her face and ribs. She punched and hit with her elbows as she'd been trained. His tactical gear was hard on her body but not effective enough to protect him. He got his arms around her and she leaned further into him, forcing her to take on both of their weight and setting him down further into his grounded stance. She felt a tearing in her left hand as she punched him just below his tactical vest, her finger catching on the bottom edge. He jerked in pain and it was enough to allow her to free her arms and deliver an elbow strike to the soft tissue under his chin. He stumbled back. As soon as she was clear of his personal space, three shots were fired from her left where Raymond stood, startling her. The man dropped like a sack of rocks. She stood, gasping for air for a moment, her body on fire. She turned a glare on Raymond.

"You didn't have to shoot him. I didn't need you to save me."

He walked to her and put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so he could examine her split lip. His eyes were inextricably cold. She moved her head a bit, turning her eyes from his. She touched her tongue to the inside of her bruised lip, tasting the blood there. She could feel the blood dripping down her left hand and resisted the urge to look.

"Delaney," Ray rumbled, calling her eyes back to him. "For the record, I didn't shoot him because you needed saving. I killed the bastard because he never should have put his hands on you."

"Very noble," came a voice from behind them.

They turned to find Rafael Luciani standing before them, dressed all in black and looking every inch the wraith he was purported to be. He was several inches taller than Lane, even in her heels. His hair was buzzed and he kept his dark beard equally close cropped so that it was little more than stubble. His arms bulged where they crossed across his chest, the tattoo sleeve on his left arm visible. He looked as she remembered him—formidable, imposing, sinister.

"Lane."

The thickness of his accent suggested to Lane that he had been home recently.

"Rafael."

"I see you found your beloved," he said, switching to Italian. She assumed it was in a misguided effort to offer them some privacy in their conversation.

"I see you decided to make an example of your B team," she replied in his language, knowing Ray understood.

"I expected him to be…_more_," Raf sneered, undeterred by her attempted subject change.

"More intelligent? More sincere? More than you? He is."

"I knew you were still involved with him."

"This is the same tired nonsense you've spouted for years and I see no reason to be drawn into an argument. Your jealousy and your insecurity rule your nature. Raymond Reddington has merely been your vehicle to justify your madness. I want no part of it."

"He makes you weak. He has always been your vulnerability. Now he will be your downfall."

"Or my salvation."

"Give him to me and I'll let you live."

"And the others?"

"The girl must die."

"And you think I'd sacrifice them to save myself? When has that ever been my nature?"

"I am allowing you the opportunity to see the error of your ways. He's not worth it."

"We'll have to agree to disagree," she said in English. "Sorry about your men."

He shrugged negligently, looking down at the dead man behind her.

"They served their purpose. I see your fighting skills are still weak."

"You won't goad me, Rafael," she retorted, knowing he was trying to get her to react. His lips quirked.

"Perhaps you learn."

"Perhaps."

"You're bleeding all over my floor," he said before he turned to Ray. "Take her home and patch her up. Enjoy your days because they are numbered. Death is coming."

"I do not fear Death. Nor you," Ray said in flawless Italian. He put his hand on her back and led her to the door, exiting with slightly more dignity than they entered.


	16. Chapter 16

**16: Broken**

"Damn it, Delaney. _God damn it_," Ray breathed, leading her out to the car.

"I'm fine, Raymond."

"You're far from fine. You're bleeding all over the place."

"I know. Don't get too close. I don't want to bleed all over your lovely suit."

"To hell with my suit. What were you thinking?"

"Mostly just duck, block, block," she quipped.

"So not the time for that."

"I have a first aid kit in the back."

He popped the tailgate of the SUV. After he stripped off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, he pulled the black jump bag toward him and yanked it open. She could see the fine tremor in his hands and couldn't decide if she had scared him or he was just royally pissed. Probably both.

He dumped medical supplies on the slide mat. She resisted the urge to look down at her hands, which were killing her. Instead, she looked down at herself. Her shirt had seen better days, her wedges were done for, and there were several giant rips in her skirt.

"Son of a _bitch_," she swore, twisting one way then the other.

"What?" Ray asked, reaching for his pistol.

"This was my favorite skirt!"

"Maybe you should consider these things before you elect to kick someone's ass in a warehouse." He pulled out a brown bottle of peroxide. "This is going to hurt."

"Least it's not rubbing alcohol," she said with a shrug, holding out her right hand.

She winced as he doused her hand. Holding her wrist delicately, he tore open a package of gauze with his teeth. He gently wiped away blood and tried to clean up her split and bruising knuckles as best he could. She did her best not to make a sound, knowing it would set him off.

"We'll have to clean these properly when we're not standing outside a viper's nest being watched by God knows who," he said, hoarsely.

He quickly field dressed it and then moved to her other hand. She was aware of the blood dripping from her finger tips and judging by the cutting pain, she really didn't want to look at it. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on breathing in and out as he examined it.

"_Jesus_," he hissed, examining her hand. "I can't put peroxide on this. It's too deep."

"Don't tell me," she said thinly, still concentrating on her breathing. "There's saline in there somewhere."

"Hurt?"

"Smarts a wee bit," she agreed.

"My brave girl," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her brow before going back to cleaning it with the saline. He wrapped several bandages around her middle finger before wrapping it with gauze and tape and then wrapping her knuckles much like he had the other hand. She opened her eyes to find him shoving stuff back into the bag. She'd have to take stock and reorganize it later.

"There's a pair of jeans in there and some extra shoes. Will you pull them out?"

He obliged her and she hopped up onto the tailgate so she could fumble with the ankle strap of her ruined shoes. Her hands were awkward and fumbling with the bandages. Ray pushed them aside and unbuckled the shoes, chunking them in the back.

"Those are going to be lovely bruises," he said, shaking his head at the marks left behind on her ankles.

He helped her down and pushed her hands aside as she tried to undo the zipper at the back of her skirt. He pulled it down and watched wordlessly as she stepped out of the ruined material. Getting her jeans on was harder and slightly more humiliating. He held them so she could step into them and then helped shimmy them up. He zipped and buttoned them for her.

He was so close to her that their bodies nearly touched. She could practically count each sandy brown eyelash and despite the clinical detachment he tried to show, she could see the slight twitch in his cheek. He knelt in front of her and took her calf in his hand, wiping his other over the bottom of her foot to brush off the rocks and grime from where she stood on the pavement. He slipped on one shoe and then the other.

"Thank you," she said, when he stood. He carefully kissed her cheek, making her aware that her lip throbbing. "Dembe wants us to sweep the car."

He pulled the case over that Dembe had put in the back earlier. Ray opened it and removed the device. Lane didn't think Raf would tag the car but it was better to be safe than sorry. After a quick sweep that revealed it to be clean, he put it back in the case.

"I'll drive," he said with such gravitas that she felt bad for making him angry and worried. He made sure she was in and buckled before walking around the car, slamming the tailgate, and getting in.

"Do you even remember how to drive?" He shot her a withering look that made her huff out a laugh as she leaned back against her seat. "There's ibuprofen in the console."

He put the car into drive and fished it out. Steering with his knee, he popped the child-proof lid and dumped four into his hand. She fumbled them into her fingers and dropped them into her mouth, taking a long drink of his iced tea since the cap was on her bottle of water.

"How do I call Dembe?" Ray asked. She showed him the button to push and then said the command for him. She closed her eyes as the call rang, feeling vaguely ill.

"Yes? Hello?" Dembe answered.

"Dembe, I'm taking Delaney to the house. She's injured."

"How badly?"

"I'm fine," she spoke up.

"She's going to need stitches on her finger and she's got some nasty bruises. Can you, Lizzie, and Donald meet us there? I'm not taking her back to the office. They can just come to us."

"Of course. We'll be there."

They disconnected and Lane leaned her seat back, curling onto her side facing him, closing her eyes. She felt him tuck his hand into the crook behind her knee and she rested her right hand on it, tucking her badly injured hand into her chest. She drifted in a pain filled void, startling a bit when Ray rubbed her thigh sometime later to wake her.

"Hi," he said sympathetically, pushing her hair out of her face.

"Hi."

"We're home. Let's get you inside."

She resituated and was raising her seat when he opened her door. He reached across her and unlocked her seatbelt. He helped her down and she walked next to him carefully, feeling brittle and sore after sitting still for so long post-adrenaline dump. He ushered her through the door and into the kitchen. Liz's shocked face was the first thing she saw as the younger woman shot to her feet.

"Oh my God…"

"What the hell happened?" Ressler all but yelled as they moved to pull out a bar stool for her and help her sit down.

"I'm okay," she said.

"Like hell," Liz retorted. She shot an accusing look at Ray. "How did this happen?"

"I've been asking myself the same thing for the last two hours," he said as Dembe started opening the medical kit he kept on hand. Ray gently unwrapped her right hand and did a better job of cleaning it under Liz's watchful eye. When he was satisfied, he gently rubbed on antibiotic cream and re-wrapped it.

The knuckles on her left hand weren't as bad as the right but they required some cleaning before he moved on to her finger. He gently unwrapped it and she turned her face away, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. She did her best to keep quiet and relaxed as he probed her tattered finger and cleaned it as gently as possible.

"_Jesus_," Ressler muttered, earning him a glare from the other three. Lane didn't move from her position but she did laugh a bit.

"That's about how it feels too," she quipped lamely.

"Delaney, look at me," Ray commanded quietly. She opened her eyes and sat back up. "I'm going to have to put some stitches in this. It's going to hurt without an anesthetic."

"I'm okay. Do what you need to do." His eyes held hers for a long moment, measuring her before he turned back to her hand. Dembe opened the packages of surgical sutures and Ray set to work. "Make them straight. I don't want an ugly scar."

"I'll do my best," he said gruffly.

The tug and pull on the torn skin was almost more than she could handle but she managed to keep quiet and still. The gash was over an inch long on her middle finger and took several stitches. When he had it closed up, Ray did his best to clean the blood from her hand. He fit a splint over her finger and wrapped it gently so she wouldn't hit it on anything. He gently cleaned her lip as he recounted their day to Ressler and Liz. Lane was fading fast and stood woozily to excuse herself.

"Easy, slugger," Ressler said, steadying her. Liz helped her back to their bedroom while Ray and Dembe found her something stronger than ibuprofen. Liz had her settled on the bed by the time Ray got back there.

"These will help with the pain and let you sleep for a bit." She took the pills and then settled back.

"I'm okay. I just need a nap," she murmured, even as she drifted off. Ressler led Liz out of the room. Ray stared down at her battered face, emotions swirling.

"I'll sit with her, Raymond. She'll sleep for a couple of hours at least. Go take care of your Elizabeth."

Ray leaned over her, pressing his lips to her forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn't stand to see her in pain. Couldn't stand her bravery. He wouldn't allow her to put herself in harm's way like that again. He couldn't. He couldn't risk losing her. He didn't know which one of them was more broken in that moment.


	17. Chapter 17

**17: Twenty Thousand Never**

Lane woke slowly, foggy, confused, and in pain. She didn't recognize the room and for a moment, she panicked, jerking to a sitting position and then groaning at the effort. The bathroom door swung open and Ray stepped out, shirt untucked from his dress pants, vest gone.

"Easy, sweetheart," he said, moving to her side of the bed and easing down.

"I feel like shit," she grumbled.

"That's the first honest thing you've said in hours," he said with a half-smile, his eyes warm and gentle. "What can I do?"

"Shoot me?"

"That's never going to happen," he said, pushing her hair back from her face, caressing her forehead with his thumb.

"I feel ick."

"And how do I fix 'ick'?"

"Shower and something to settle my stomach?"

"You can't take a shower until those sutures come out, baby. How about a nice hot bath and soup?" Her grumpy, halfhearted nod was enough to make him smile. "Rest until I get it ready."

She drifted between sleep and wakefulness as he did his thing. She could hear the tub filling in the next room and the scent of whatever he'd dropped into the water began to fill their bedroom. He came back to her and helped her sit up.

"Slowly," he hissed as she wobbled to her feet. He led her into the warm, dim bathroom. Soft music came from somewhere and he'd lit candles so she didn't have to deal with the glare of the lights. She knew she should object to him helping her undress for modesty's sake but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"What'd you put in the water?" she asked as he unbuttoned her shirt.

"I don't know. Some kind of eucalyptus and mint oil that makes me feel better and helps me to relax."

"I like it," she said, as he gently pulled the shirt free of her bandaged hands. She pushed her hips forward and attempted the button for about half a second before he moved her hands and did it for her. He worked the denim down her legs and helped her step out. Now that she stood before him in nothing but her black lace underwear, her modesty flooded back. It only lasted for about half a second before his face darkened with anger. He ran gentle finger tips over a nasty bruise on her ribs.

"You didn't tell me. Are they broken?"

"Just a bad bruise," she assured.

It matched the nasty one on her opposite hip. She was quite the mess. She turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder at him, waiting for him to unclasp her bra. With a ragged sigh, he gathered her hair and put it over her shoulder before making quick work of the clasp. She spared forcing him to help with her underwear and hooked her thumbs through them and pulled them down.

"Careful." His voice washed over her in a caress as he helped her into the tub. She shivered as she lowered herself into the giant tub. She winced a bit as the hot water hit bruises and scrapes. "Okay?"

"I'm okay."

"I've had about enough of that phrase for one day," he said, kneeling and rolling up his shirt sleeves.

"It's true, though. I've had worse."

"Certainly not what I want to hear, Delaney."

She pulled up her legs and rounded her back, crossing her arms over her knees and resting her cheek on them. He pulled her hair wetly over her shoulder and lathered a plush washcloth so he could wash her back. His touch was gentle and she closed her eyes. She hummed low in her throat as he cupped warm water and let it run down her back.

"Easy," he ordered lightly when he helped her lean back against the bath pillow.

"I love Norah Jones," she said as the music changed.

He nodded ever so slightly, his eyes hooded as he washed her arms and then shoulders. Convinced her breath would come out in pants as he touched her so intimately, she barely breathed. She hurt, yes. She felt like she'd had her ass kicked, true. But was she really expected to be unaffected by Ray's tender, soap slicked touch? And as hard as he tried to appear otherwise, she could read the minutiae of his body language—the shallow breathing, the parted lips, the dilated pupils.

"Stop analyzing me," he said gruffly.

"Just making sure it wasn't just me."

She closed her eyes as he gently washed her face, effectively stealing her ability to study him.

"Sainthood. I deserve nothing short of sainthood," he muttered, moving to her legs. His hand dipped below the water and pulled her leg up onto the side of the tub.

"I feel certain you'll be rewarded greatly." He ran the wash cloth down the length of her calf.

"Is that right?"

"You only have to stop being so damn noble and self-sacrificing."

She sat up and captured his mouth with hers. His reaction was explosive and immediate. The washcloth fell unnoticed as he took her face in his hand, slanting his mouth hotly over hers. She moaned, half in need, half in pain.

"God _damn_it," he muttered, immediately pulling back. "Don't _do_ that. I'm not a fucking saint and I'm not okay with hurting you."

"I'm…"

"Don't say it. Don't you dare say it again," he snapped. "I'm going to wash your hair and then you're going to get dressed and stay that way for the next ten thousand years."

"Ray?" When he ignored her, she said his name again. And then again. "Ray? Raymond."

"_What?!"_

"I love you," she said with shining eyes and a soft smile.

"Why would you do that? Why would you say that right now?" His face was as tortured as his voice.

"Because it's true."

"It shouldn't be."

"It is." He squeezed his eyes shut and she leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss against his pursed lips. His mouth softened against hers marginally. She pulled back enough to see his eyes, so he could see the truth in hers. "I love you beyond measure and I don't care if it scares the hell out of you."

She placed another kiss on his frowning, sullen mouth and then leaned back. _Let him stew on that for a while_, she thought. She slid down and dunked her head in the water before sitting back up. With a heavy sigh, he released the drain in the tub. He gently lathered her hair and she groaned as he massaged her scalp.

"I'll give you anything you want if you do this forever," she said.

"Don't make deals with the devil, darling," he grumbled, still frustrated. He turned on the tap and let it run warm before pulling out the hand sprayer. "Head back."

He gently rinsed and then conditioned her hair. She could still feel her heartbeat throbbing in the bruises that peppered her body but the rest of her felt completely boneless and drained. He helped her stand up and wrapped her in a fluffy towel.

"Good?" he asked, steadying her when she stepped out.

"I'm okay." That earned her another look. She shrugged. "Sorry. I'm not used to anyone hovering."

"That's because you date assholes."

"Probably," she said with a laugh. She pulled on her sleep shorts and tank top.

"These lace shorts?" He hooked his finger in the hip for emphasis. "Should be illegal on you."

"I think you're just biased," she said with a laugh.

"I have fantasies about those shorts."

"Do you now?" Her eyebrow raised with interest. "I wonder if they're along the same lines as mine of you in your dress pants and vest."

"Does it for you, huh?"

"You have no idea," she replied, stepping into his personal space. "You in a well-tailored suit, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. Yeah, it works. Replaces the old images I used to have of you swimming with nothing but your dog tags."

"_What?"_

"Did you really think I'd sleep through a pool party I wasn't invited to?"

"I guess I never really thought about it."

"Oh, I did. A _lot_."

"I don't even know what to do with that," he said, turning her and pulling a brush through her wet locks.

"Lucky for you, I don't have that problem." She met his eyes in the mirror.

"You're a saucy little minx tonight and you should cut it out right now before I remember I'm not a gentleman and I accept what you're blatantly offering."

"Sadly, you _are _a gentleman and you wouldn't accept my offer if I dipped myself in chocolate."

"Now there's a thought." There was a knock on the bedroom door. "It's open, Dembe."

Dembe stepped in with a brown deli bag and drink carrier. "Dinner. I hope you feel better, Delaney."

"Thank you, Dembe," she said sincerely. "Thank you for helping patch me up."

"Of course. I will see you both in the morning."

"Will you braid my hair? It's chilly with it wet on my shoulders," Lane asked Ray after they were alone again.

"Remember when you taught me how to do this?"

"I do. You could never get her pigtails straight."

"Kids wiggle."

"You need to tell her."

"We're not discussing this tonight," he stated, tying off the braid.

"Fine. Then give me a day and I'll drop it til then."

"How about December 31, Twenty thousand never?"

"Ass."

"Can we just eat please?" Lane walked back into the main room and picked up the bag. She motioned to the floor.

"You're sore. Let's just eat on the bed."

"Raymond, you hate eating on the bed."

"It's fine for tonight."

She sat cross legged on the floor and stared up at him willfully. With a heavy sight, he joined her. She opened the bag and found two containers of soup and a smaller bag of baguette slices. She opened the lid on one and pushed it toward him before popping the next one.

"Eat the bread, it'll help settle your stomach," he said, blowing on his soup. She tore off a piece while she waited for hers to cool.

"So you were well trained. Wing Chun? Krav Maga? It was impressive."

"Despite the ass kicking?"

"It's all relative to your opponent. He was large and decently trained."

"He wasn't nearly as good as I am."

"No but he had body armor. It makes a difference."

"My original handler made sure I was trained by the best. By the very nature of my cover, I'm almost always unarmed. It was necessary."

"Darling, everything about you is dangerous. Armed or not."

"Then I'm doing it just right, yes?"

"Seems like it."

"Raymond?"

"Hmm?" She could tell by the way he was tucking into his soup that he knew what was coming next.

"I've known for over twenty years. You don't have to pretend with me."

"You've known a lot of things for a lot of years, apparently. You'll have to clarify." His mask was back up but he couldn't quite bring himself to meet her eyes.

"I know you were a SAD operative. I recognize it in you. What I want to know is what role it played in your disappearance and what role you played in my development."

"That's not up for discussion."

"You know what? Your damned party line is getting incredibly old. We are—all of us—in peril because of the secrets you're keeping. Clearly the lies and secrets aren't protecting us so maybe the truth will."

"And if I were a SAD operative once upon a time as you've suggested and I ran because of something to do with that? Do you think I would disclose to you, an active operator, anything about that? I'm no fool."

She sat there reeling for a long moment at his words. Did he really think that? Did he think she would betray him? She'd been ripped wide open over the last few weeks because of him and she was now the bad guy. It was too much.

"Oh, you most definitely are," she whispered, dropping her bread on the floor and standing.

"Sit down and finish eating," he snapped, anger radiating from him.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Very mature, Delaney."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she cried, glaring up at the ceiling and gathering herself. "I hate—I _hate_ to fight. I hate it. And right now I'm about two seconds from unloading on you."

"By all means. Don't hold back for my sake," he goaded, angrily. She felt her wall snap up and with a breath, her face was completely calm. She stepped around him, neatly avoiding his hand. She didn't even slam the door when she stalked out.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: As always, thank you for all of the favorites/follows/comments. They keep me plugging away! I hope I'm doing a fair job of showing both Reddington's and Lane's perspectives. I know some things about Lane's involvement in Reddington's disappearance have been alluded to and will be again in this chapter. I promise it's not an oversight. It will be resolved soon enough! Just know that, especially in the chapters following this, Lane's brainstorming is kind of my theory on what happened. I try to avoid internet spoilers and chats but I've come up with my own theories in my research so I'm going to run with it! (and hopefully it won't be utterly lame…)**

**18: Total Deniability**

Ray knew that Laney was royally pissed. He couldn't say that he blamed her. She had never betrayed his trust. She had, in fact, done quite the opposite. Still, he didn't get to where he was by trusting people. Except Dembe. And Mr. Kaplan.

And Delaney Ryker.

With a heavy sigh, he dumped their ruined dinner back into the bag. He decided to take a shower and allow them both the opportunity to cool off. The bathroom was still humid and smelled like her shampoo. He'd grown used to the fresh lemon scent, so much like her. He'd miss it when this was over. He'd miss their nighttime discussions on books and art and how she sighed in her sleep and curled into him without hesitation if he reached for her in the dark.

She was a part of him. Like a piece he hadn't known was missing until it fit itself back in. He didn't like it and it made him cross. She'd had a hell of a day and then he'd been a complete ass. She deserved better than that. With another sigh, he went in search for her.

Ressler had gone with Lizzie to get her settled in her new place against Ray's better judgment. On the off chance that Laney had realized Lizzie's room was vacant, he stuck his head in there. Nothing. Next he checked the library. Still nothing. He finally opened the door to the kitchen and found her in the dark, using the counter as a barre. He watched in silence as she went through the paces, counting in his head. She was steady as a metronome. When she turned to work the other leg, he realized she'd known he was there the entire time.

"Go away, Raymond," she said softly, not breaking form and not looking at him.

He just stood there watching her dumbly. Shoulders down, neck long, arms graceful. She was something to behold. He was fascinated by her legs and feet. Her muscles were long, flexing ropes as she moved. He could see that her feet were healing after being off stage for a few weeks. Back and forth her left foot went. Forward, to the side, behind her as it scuffed quietly against the wood floor. There was something calming, even for him, in the rote movements.

When she'd made her way through all the positions, she lifted her leg before her at waist height. She slowly rotated it so that it was out to the side, wincing, before moving it behind her. He could see the tension in the corners of her mouth and knew that it hurt. He remembered that was the side with the nasty bruise on her hip. Her leg went back to its original position before she did it all over again, this time with her leg all the way up. He didn't know why he found the whole thing so utterly enthralling but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Her hip popped loudly when she rotated it from side to back.

"You need to rest, Delaney, and let that hip heal."

"I know my body's limitations," she said stiffly, relaxing into a normal posture. She leaned to the side and stretched her bruised ribs.

"You're covered in bruises and I know you're sore."

"Yes, I am. I'll live."

She attempted to brush past him but a hand on her stomach stopped her. They were standing so close that he could feel her body brush lightly against his through his pajamas. He sighed, his breath playing with the wisps of hair at her temples. He wanted this woman so bad that he could taste it and he was pretty sure it was slowly killing him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"For?" She looked up at him through her lashes and he could see her eyes swirled with emotions, not the least of which was anger that he thoroughly deserved.

"For being an ass."

"Raymond, you work side by side with the FBI on a daily basis. If they wanted you through official channels, they'd have you. I'm here for one reason and one reason alone. If you think my intentions are dishonest, then I'll go back to my quiet little life and you can straighten out this mess on your own. No skin off my back."

"It's not the official channels I worry about."

"Well, I wouldn't know."

"Can we just table this discussion and go to bed?"

"You can do whatever you'd like. I'm not your girlfriend. Hell, I'm apparently not even someone you trust. I'll sleep in the library."

"You'll do no such thing," he objected, putting more pressure on her stomach as she tried to push past him again. She pushed his hand away and stepped back, putting some space between their bodies. Now that their faces weren't inches from each other's she looked at him fully, her eyes burning.

"You don't trust me but you'll share a bed with me. You trust me not to stick a blade between your ribs at night when you're most vulnerable but you won't trust me with any real part of you. You're a man twisted up in internal turmoil and there is absolutely nothing I can do about. So. You figure out if you want me to stay or go. If I stay, you bring me in on this fully. No more secrets. No more lies. If you want me to go, I'm out. No more contact. Let me know what you decide."

"I don't like ultimatums, Delaney," he said, bristling at her tone.

"Not an ultimatum. A choice. Make yours or I'll do it for you." She pushed past him. "_That_ was an ultimatum."

"Would you stop being so damn rational for a second?" he demanded. She kept walking. "_Delaney!_"

She turned brows raised, face cool. He knew her tactics. Hell, he used them 90% of the time but he found he did _not_ like them turned on him. He wanted her to yell at him. He wanted to yell back. It would ease the tension; give them something to focus on beside the giant elephant in the room she was becoming increasingly less willing to ignore.

"Don't raise your voice at me. You'll wake Dembe and Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth went to her new apartment when you were resting. You can have our bed. I don't want you sleeping on a couch. You need real rest. I'll take Elizabeth's room."

"It's not 'our' anything. This is just a job."

She walked to Lizzie's room leaving him angry and oddly hurt by her parting shot.

X X X

Lane slept fitfully. She couldn't get comfortable. If she did drift off, she had bad dreams. At dawn, she gave up the act and got up. Of course, all of her stuff was in the room Raymond was sleeping in so there wasn't a damn thing she could do and she wasn't ready to face him yet. She took the blanket off Elizabeth's bed, wrapped up in it, and headed to the library. She found a legal pad and pen and sat down on the divan. It was time to get out all the questions she had.

If Ray wasn't worried about official government action against him, who had ordered the SF8 hit? And if it wasn't the "government," what did they want from him? It seemed unlikely that it was because he was accused of racketeering and sabotage. No one in the government worked this hard on RICO violations twenty-five years after the fact. And any illegal arms deals he had involvement in after he disappeared seemed unlikely to be eligible for prosecution in the States. What had he been running from the last time she'd seen him? Why had he asked her to take Elizabeth that night? Why had he warned her and sworn her to secrecy? What he'd done during those years away suddenly seemed less important than _why_ he'd come back. If he was so paranoid that he couldn't trust her after all they'd been through, why would he come back? Why did Elizabeth need protection _now_ after all these years? What exactly was on the blackmail file? Who did it target?

Lane thought about what she knew about Raymond's past. His military service was well-documented and pristine until he went AWOL. It wasn't until her full investiture into the clandestine services that she realized that Ray hadn't been all that had met the eye. She started to recognize things in her own training that she'd seen him do. It was during her close work with the Special Activities Division that she realized that she'd found Raymond's niche. It was an easy intuitive leap from there to believe that he had gone rogue. He wouldn't be the first, after all, but he was certainly the most notorious. The CIA didn't acknowledge his role in their agency. Total deniability. It was the cornerstone of the clandestine services.

The more questions she wrote down, the more she came up with. She didn't realize anyone was awake until Raymond entered, carrying two green smoothies. She wanted to comment because he had harassed her for drinking "that putrid swill" just the other day but she was still pissed and hurt, so she refrained.

"What are you working on?" he asked, sipping his breakfast. She folded the sheet up and the several blank ones under it before tearing it from the pad. She wouldn't put it past him to try to read the pressure writing that bled through.

"Nothing. Give me a couple minutes to dress and I'll be ready to go to the office."

"You're not going to the office today. You need to rest."

"I'm here to do a job. I intend to do it. I'll be ready shortly."

"Do you need help?"

"Not from you," she said flatly, stalking out.

She went to their room and locked the door. It took her an exasperating amount of time to get dressed. She finally got frustrated and ripped off the bandages wrapped around her knuckles. Her hands were an amalgam of colors and she grimaced just looking at them. Her knuckles were swollen and split.

Lane finally decided leggings, a white tank, and a denim shirt were acceptable work attire for an office day. She brushed out her braid. Her hair was a hot mess but there wasn't much she could do about it with the splint on her finger so she gathered it in a long tail down her back and deemed it good enough. She studied her face in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. She had dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep. Her lip was still slightly swollen and bruised and she had a nice bruise on her jaw where the guy had shoved the gun into it. All in all, she had seen better days. She didn't see a point to even bother with makeup.

She grabbed her smoothie and went in search of Raymond. He was sitting at the kitchen table, ankles crossed, sipping his breakfast, reading the paper. He was dressed in his suit, as usual, with a blue wind breaker pulled over it. He glanced up when she walked in. He folded up the paper and put his cup on the table.

"Let me look," he said, holding out his hand.

Her mad was a little less now that she was mulling over what had gotten them to this point. She decided she was smart enough to figure out what was going on even without his help. She had all the pieces in front of her. She just needed to figure out what the picture was and this little office respite would allow her to do just that.

She dropped her right palm into his. Tension settled in the corner of his eyes and mouth as he examined it. He might not trust her but he still didn't like seeing her hurt. She supposed that was some of the old loyalty and she should take it where she could get it. He reached for her other hand and studied it as well. It was far less mottled than its partner, despite the bulky splint. He carefully unwound the self-adhesive bandage from the splint and removed it.

"Tell me if it pulls," he ordered gently as he peeled the tape and bandage off her actual finger.

It was really the first time she'd looked at it and she couldn't help the grimace on her face. It was a little puffy and bruised. The blue sutures stood out against her pale skin but otherwise it looked like it would heal fine. He stood and motioned for her to sit while he went to grab the medical kit. He knelt before her and gently cleaned a few areas where it had seeped and rewrapped it. He dumped the old bandages in the trash next to him and tossed the others back into the kit. He pushed to his feet but didn't step back when she stood too. Their toes touched as they faced each other. With a sigh, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her forehead, breathing in her scent before stepping back. She followed him out the door with a deep sigh, feeling the vestiges of her anger fade.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I know this is super short. I'm having trouble writing the next part knowing that so much is being revealed with these last four episodes of the season! I can**_**not**_** wait for Thursday! I'm moving this week so I don't know how much I'll get posted but I'll be back next week. Anyway, have a great week and I'll see you on the other side!**

**19: Normalcy Beyond**

Liz lay in her new bed, staring at the ceiling. She could hear Ressler snoring softly from the couch below. She found the sound unexpectedly comforting and was glad that he'd insisted on staying with her. Her mind raced so quickly that she couldn't pin down a thought. Hell, it'd basically been her natural state for the last nearly two years.

Now here she was, in a flat purchased for her by a wanted criminal. _Her_ wanted criminal. He'd grown to be so important to her. She knew that should scare her but it didn't. The thought of losing him scared her. The thought of never truly knowing who he was to her scared her. He held the secrets to her past and while he'd grant her anything in the world, he withheld those. She wanted desperately to understand why. Why did he feel the need to protect her? Could he not see how much it hurt her?

With a heavy sigh, she got up and padded to the bathroom. She was never going to sleep well again. She turned on the water in the sink and let it run warm while she studied herself in the mirror. With her hair pulled back and her face scrubbed clean, she could see the dark circles under her eyes. She looked weary. She splashed the warm water on her face and tried to take deep, steadying breaths. Maybe if she could tame her anxiety, she could sleep. She left the bathroom feeling no less settled.

"Liz?" Ress called softly.

"Yeah?" she asked, looking over the railing down at him. She could just make out his form, sitting up, and while she couldn't see it, she was certain he had his pistol.

"All good?"

"Yeah. Sorry, I woke you."

"It's okay. Can't sleep?"

"Not even a little."

"Let's watch a movie then."

"We have to work tomorrow."

"Will it be keeping you from sleeping, Keen?" he asked dryly.

"Point taken."

She pulled a blanket off her bed and went down the curved staircase. The flat Red had gotten her was huge and beautifully decorated. She hadn't wanted to like it but she did. Ressler had figured out the TV earlier, excitedly babbling to her about all the cool features she was supposed to care about. It had totally gone in one ear and out the other, to be honest. She plopped down on the sectional next to him, trying to ignore the fact that he had removed his dress shirt and wore only a sleeveless undershirt. Who on earth knew he had all that going on under that buttoned up collar and tie?

"What are you up for?"

"You pick," she said, settling back. She expected he'd pick an action film with lots of gunfights and explosions. When he chose a black and white Cary Grant, she turned to him, her brows furrowed. "Really?"

"What?" he asked somewhat defensively.

"I just didn't take you for a classic film type guy, Ress."

"And why's that?"

"I dunno. You're kind of…manly."

"Manly?" he asked with a delighted chuckle. "You think I'm manly, Keen?"

"Oh, bite me. I mean, you're like a guy's guy. All alpha male and tough."

"Soooo I can't have a sensitive side or an appreciation for the finer things in life?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"If you'd rather watch Die Hard or something, Keen, just tell me."

"Oh my geez, just start the damn movie," she said, throwing up her hands. He grinned at her. He snuggled back into his pillow. Liz grabbed a throw pillow and lay down.

"Better?" he asked, his voice still rumbly with sleep. She tilted her head back so she could make eye contact with him. He just looked down at her with a raised brown.

"You don't talk during movies, do you?" she asked.

"Hell no."

"Then shhh."

He reached down and palmed her face for a second. She squealed and slapped it away before turning on her side. They weren't touching but she was aware of the warmth radiating from his leg of the couch. It should make her uncomfortable but after nearly two years working with him, it didn't. He was her best friend. He knew everything about her. All the good. All the bad. And there was a lot of bad. He kept her grounded and kept her moral compass pointing north. He told her how it was, whether she wanted to hear it or not. She needed that in her life right now. Needed to know that someone was 100% with her, no games. He would always have her loyalty for that.

It wasn't until she awoke slowly in the weak light of dawn that she realized she'd fallen asleep on the couch. Ressler's deep, even breathing just above her head was the first thing she became aware of. The second was that her arm was thrown above her head and her hand was tangled in one of his. His hand was different from Tom's. It was wide and warm and rough, his fingers blunt. Tom's were softer, more graceful, his fingers long and tapered.

_Am I waxing poetic about hands right now?_ she asked herself. She yawned and stretched, hitting him in the chest as her arm crossed onto his side. She felt him jerk awake. His hand tightened on hers for a minute before he let go.

"What the hell, Keen. You don't have to punch me awake."

"I hardly punched you. I was stretching. Just be glad my head is on this end and not my feet."

"It will never be okay for you to kick me in the face. Ever." He did his own yawn and stretch. "Least you got some sleep, huh?"

"Thank you for staying here and letting me invade your space." She pushed to a sitting position. He stared up at her, a smirk on his face. "I know, I look like a wild thing in the morning. I don't even care."

"It's a good look on you, Keen. All crazy and tousled."

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I need to go home and shower. I'm pretty sure if we come rolling in together and I have on yesterday's clothes, Uncle Red will gut me where I stand."

"Oh brother. Like he has any room to be all judgey judgey. Lane has him so spun up and confused right now."

"Right? Who knew he could get that worked up over a woman."

"I think seeing her injured probably messed with his head a bit."

"Hell, it messed with mine."

"Me too, a little. I like her. I hope…I don't know what I hope," she said with a heavy sigh.

"Maybe that normalcy lies beyond this?"

"God, I hope so."


	20. Chapter 20

**20: Choices**

No one was really in the building when Ray and Lane got there. She went back to her office, aware that he was following her. She put her hand on the handle and turned toward him, her back against the door. He raised a sardonic brow.

"You understand what my goal is, yes?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"And you're what—just going to hang out with me while I work on it?"

"That's the plan."

"You realize you could just tell me everything and save me the work?"

"That's not going to happen, Delaney."

"You know what else isn't going to happen, Raymond? You're not going to hamper my progress."

"I would never do such a thing."

"Bullshit," she retorted with a look, pushing the door open.

The room was frigid and she shivered a bit as she switched on the light. It was still a mess from the night Red interrupted her spitball session with Liz. He looked pointedly at the questions and then at her, disapproval in the set of his mouth. She shrugged.

"You can offer me no good reason why I can't enlist her help."

"Because it would be detrimental to her well-being isn't enough?"

"Considering she's working with Number Four and being hunted by SF8? Uh, no. It's hard to imagine that it could get much worse."

"Delaney, I need you to understand what I'm saying. You are about to open Pandora's Box. There is no going back after. I'm _begging_ you not to do this. It's not just about Elizabeth's safety but yours too."

"Ignorance is not bliss, Raymond. Don't try to play me with the eyes and the stories."

"I'm _not_."

"But now it's suddenly dangerous for Liz _and_ me? Come on." She was offended by his lame attempt to redirect her efforts.

"It's not dangerous for you now. It will be if you persist."

"Was that a threat?" She narrowed her gray eyes at him.

" Jesus H…_no_. It was a warning. You know what? Do what you want. You always do."

He tossed up his hands and threw himself down on the couch in the corner. Files slid off the box next to him and dumped into his lap. He just dropped his head with a heavy sigh. Lane felt her lips twitch at his apparent defeat. She leaned over him and gathered up the files, dropping them back on the box. He grasped her wrist lightly and tugged her into his lap. Her brow furrowed with surprise. He dropped one of his hands over her thighs and played with the long strands of her ponytail with the other one while he chewed the inside corner of his lip. He pinned her with that penetrating green gaze of his.

"Before I left, before the world went pear-shaped, you knew I cared about you. Right?"

"We had a bond," she said, emotion flickering briefly across her face. She swallowed around a sudden lump of tears caught in her throat. "We loved each other. We were a part of each other."

"You were my family."

"Yes," she agreed. It was true. Regardless of how her feelings had matured over time, at the basis of it all was the bond they'd built from the beginning.

"You knew what that meant to me."

"Yes."

"You knew who I was."

"I thought I did." She gave her head a hard shake. "I was twenty and naïve. And clearly wrong."

"You knew who I was," he said insistently, his eyes filled with bottomless emotions.

"I believed in the man I thought you were," she conceded and she could see her words hurt him, even though it wasn't her intent. She could see that it bothered him that she didn't believe he was that man. Not that he wasn't that man anymore, because he wasn't. But that her memory of who he had been was forever changed.

"I'm sorry that bothers you," she whispered, fingering the knot of his tie anxiously. He held her eyes for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip.

"It couldn't be helped," he rasped. She didn't know if he meant his departure or the shattering of her beliefs. Essentially, the end result was the same. "Tell me what you first believed. When I first went missing, before my reputation was trashed. What did you believe?"

"In the very beginning, I believed that you were in trouble. That someone was trying to kill you and you ran."

"Why? Why did you believe that?"

"Because of the secrets surrounding Elizabeth and the fire. You made me hide her, Ray. You made me take her from you and hide her. The man I knew wouldn't leave his…"

"_Don't say it_."

"Okay. But you wouldn't have left her. You had just found her."

"Do you still believe that?"

"That you wouldn't have abandoned her? It's one of the few things I'm absolutely certain of."

He closed his eyes, his face tortured, and drew a ragged breath. She took his face in her hands and drew it forward so that she could rest her forehead against his.

"Let me in. Let me help you," she whispered.

"I _can't_. Don't you see that? If I had to leave, if I had to hide for twenty five years, why can't you believe that I can't tell you?"

"Why did you trust me with your secrets then but not now? I was so young and we were in so much trouble. How did you know I wouldn't betray you?"

"You would never betray me." His conviction was absolute and it pierced her deeply.

"You still believe that? Even after the bit last night about me being an active operative?"

"I'm human, Laney. I have self-doubts like everyone. I question my instincts just like you question yours. At my core, however, that's what I truly believe. That you wouldn't betray me."

Her eyes filled and she pushed to her feet, turning away from him. She didn't cry. She hated to cry and she wouldn't let him see her do so now. Her hands shook with the effort to hold herself in check.

"Delaney." His hands were gentle on her shoulders as he turned her toward him. Her eyes were so full that she could only make out his silhouette. A tear raced down her cheek even as she refused to blink and let the others fall. "God, don't do that. Cry, scream, rage. But don't hold yourself together like that. It's like you've given up and your soul is rejecting your emotions even as your body is overwhelmed by them. I can't…I don't want to make you feel like that."

She swallowed once and then again, her throat so tight she could barely breathe.

"I would walk through fire for you, Raymond. I did it once. I would do it again. Whatever is going on in your life, you can trust me to shoulder the burden with you."

"It's not that I don't trust you, sweetheart," he said gently, using his thumb to dry the path of her tear. "You can't even begin to comprehend the scope of this. It will change your world forever. It will shatter everything for you. It will put you in peril for the rest of your life. I absolutely will not do that. Not to you. Not to Elizabeth. Don't ask me to do that."

"It's _my choice_."

"No, sweetheart, it's not."

"It is, Raymond. I'll do it with you or I'll do it without you. You can guide me and protect me or you can let me fumble along on my own. The end result is the same."

"This is an irrevocable decision, Delaney. I'm begging you not to do this," he pleaded.

"And I'm telling you if you go down, I go with you." She took his face in her hands. "You're not alone."

"God, you don't know what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing."


	21. Chapter 21

***finale spoilers, don't read the A/N if you haven't watched!**

**A/N: I'm back and all moved in to the new place (and by moved in I mean I've unpacked like two boxes)! I've been trying to wait til the finale to write more because I had no idea what they were going to throw at us. I still don't buy that Red isn't Liz's father. The way the whole scene played out, his questioning what she knew and not assuming—it just wasn't nearly as revealing as I thought (and hoped) it'd be. I still loved the ending with Lizzie's head on his shoulder. Anyway, I'm going to run with my little make believe story and build my theory out like I planned. I can't believe how hugely long this has gotten already. Thanks for sticking with me!**

**21: Echo**

Emotions roiled through Lane as she booted up her laptop—concern, anticipation, apprehension. She didn't know what to feel. It made her slightly uncomfortable to have Raymond there, just watching her. She glanced over at him to find him studying her intently but with a faraway look on his face. Her brow puckered a bit.

"What?"

"Just thinking," he replied, mildly.

"About?"

"You."

"What about me?"

"How different things are. How maddening you are. How I never would have expected us to end up here or that I'd have…."

"Feelings for me?" she asked, her voice deceivingly calm. She knew. On some level, she knew he cared. She just wished he'd let himself go enough to admit it. She _needed_ to hear it.

"If only it were that easy," he said with a sigh.

"It can be."

"It's a lovely, simplistic, romantic notion, Delaney."

"The best kind."

"And completely naïve."

"It's not naïveté. It's absolute acceptance of circumstance and denial of self."

"And in a perfect world, that would be enough."

"You're wrong. It's that conviction in the face of adversity that makes it worthwhile." Raymond sighed heavily.

"How can we view things so differently?"

"We're two sides of the same coin," she said with a shrug. "Complete opposites but still the same."

"Accurate."

"Hmmm," was her response as she opened up her email. "Hey, Micah sent me the information on Petra Kilesso."

Navigating the keyboard in a splint was a bit challenging but she got the file opened as Raymond came to stand behind her. There wasn't much information available. Running her tongue over the bruised part of her lip thoughtfully, Lane scrolled down to a grainy picture. She squint her eyes and tilted her head a bit.

"She totally reminds me of that exchange student we had when we were still in Massachusetts. You met her a couple times, right? What was her name? Katya…Alexandrova! Not much information on her. Definitely FSB. Highly decorated." She glanced over her shoulder to where Raymond had straightened, his face pinched. "What? What am I missing?"

"Nothing," he said, too casually. "It's just not much information."

"No…it's not," she said, narrowing her eyes at him and turning more fully. "What are you seeing that I'm not?"

"We're looking at the same file, Delaney."

"I don't think we are, Raymond."

"Do you have to bicker with me about everything?"

"When I know you're not being honest with me? You bet your ass," she retorted. "I don't like being lied to."

"I haven't said anything untruthful!"

"Lying by omission is still a lie."

"_God_, you make me crazy," he said, throwing up his hands and flinging himself back onto his spot on the couch.

"Yeah, well that shit's mutual," she muttered, turning back to the file. There was a knock on the office door. She motioned for Liz to enter.

"Morning," Liz said, entering with a cup of coffee.

"Morning, sunshine," Lane said, leaning back. "How was the first night in your new place?"

"Oh, a little weird but it was good," she said. She turned to Ray. "I know I seemed very ungrateful about the whole thing. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry and I appreciate you looking out for me."

"You look well rested," he said, shrugging off her apology in that way of his. Gratitude made him uncomfortable, Lane had noticed.

"How are you feeling?" Liz asked Lane, studying the bruises on her face.

"Meh, I'll live. We received the file on Petra Kilesso. It's pretty vague," Lane said, motioning to her screen.

"It's pretty Cyrillic," Liz retorted with a laugh. "Do I need to have Aram get it translated?"

"Please. Laney could speak six different languages before she started elementary. She's a whiz at that stuff," Ray replied with reluctant admiration.

"Seriously?" Liz asked. Lane shrugged, embarrassed. They'd really think she was a freak if they knew how many she could speak now.

"Diplomat's kid. When you live all over Europe during your pragmatic development, it comes pretty easily."

"If you say so," Liz said doubtfully. "So what do we know about Petra Kilesso?"

"Well _I_ know that she is indeed former FSB, highly respected. She's got tons of commendations. She left a couple years ago to become a private contractor and basically fell off the face of the earth until she turned up here. Raymond, however, seems to know more than he's willing to share."

"Delaney," he warned.

"Seriously? This isn't really the time for secrets, is it?" Liz scolded.

"Oh my God, why don't you just tell her I kick puppies so she can castigate me for that too?"

"You're so histrionic today, darling," Lane said, mildly.

"Probably because I got very little sleep, _sweetheart_," he retorted. Liz sipped her coffee, amused.

"You two are in rare form today."

"She's insufferable this morning," Ray groused.

"Yeah. _I'm_ the problem," she said dryly, rolling her eyes at Liz. Her phone rang, effectively ending the petty arguing. She hit the speaker. "Hello?"

"Auntie Lane!"

"Hi, Bethy-boo! What are you doing?"

"I'm getting ready to go to school but guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm making my first communion next weekend and me and Daddy want you to come!"

"Daddy and I, baby," Lane heard Danny correct in the background.

"Hey, Danny."

"Hey, Sis. Mass is in two Saturdays at eighteen hundred. Beth would like her godmother to be there."

"Will you come, Aunt Laney? Pleeeease."

"Of course I will, ladybug."

"She said yes, Daddy!"

"Of course she did. We gotta go, Sis, but I'll call you next week."

"Sounds good. Have a good day, you guys."

"Love your brains!" Beth yelled.

"Love your guts!" Lane replied, with a laugh. She hung up and turned back to the others, her grin fading when she saw the stunned look on Liz's face. "What? What's the matter?"

"Wicked case of déjà vu," Liz said, giving her head a hard shake. Lane's eyes met Ray's behind Liz's back. His mouth was tight, his face expressionless. "So Beth is doing okay? No lasting damage?"

"She seems okay," Lane said, letting her change the subject on her own.

"She's a sweet kid."

"She's the best," Lane agreed.

"Keen!" Ressler shouted from the main room. She rolled her eyes and went to go see what he wanted.

"What did I say?" Lane asked, turning to Ray, worry on her face.

"I have no idea," he said, pushing to his feet and running his hand over his head.

"I'm not crazy, right. That was some sort of echoic memory flash."

"Yeah, I think so," he said pacing. Her heart hurt for him, watching him panic just a bit.

"Raymond," she said, standing and moving into his path. He stopped but didn't look at her. She took his face in her hands. "It was just déjà vu for her. It's okay."

"That means the block is failing."

"Sweetheart, she has no reason to associate me with her as a child. It's okay. Don't borrow trouble."

"What am I doing, Delaney? I fool myself into thinking I have control over this situation but I don't. I'm going to screw this up and she's going to pay the price." His eyes misted, pleading, his hands going to her wrists.

"That's not going to happen. We're not going to let it, okay? We'll figure this out. I promise."

He allowed her to gather him into a hug and she was gratified to hold him close, just for a moment.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Not gonna lie, when a Lizzington shipper tells me they love my story, it makes my whole friggin day. Thanks, Amy! So I wrote the ending to this over this past weekend between moving and dodging severe weather (yay springtime in Oklahoma). Struggling a little with how to get myself there….**

**22: Baby Doll**

Lane had been poring over paperwork for what felt like years. Ray was kicked back on the couch reading, his feet propped on file boxes. He'd removed his jackets long ago and Lane had staked her claim to them. She didn't know how he wasn't freezing but she considered it her good fortune as she snuggled deeper into his suit jacket. She found the combination of peppermint and his intoxicating cologne very soothing.

Lane flipped through her extensive notes. She'd opted for pen and paper since she couldn't really type. Something niggled at her brain about the cases and if there was anything she'd learned in her lifetime, it was to follow her gut instinct. She stood, tossing down her pen. She stretched tall, trying to work the kinks out of her already sore muscles. Ray looked up from his book, his face expressionless as he watched her.

"What?"

"You look about 20 in my jacket with no makeup on," he remarked.

"I assure you, I don't own a single pair of Guess jeans like I did when I was 20."

"Oh Lord, you know what I mean. You look like a kid."

"Compared to you, I am," she teased. He narrowed his eyes.

"You're hilarious."

"I know," she said, with a sassy head tilt.

He shook his head at her in exasperated amusement. She walked to him and tapped the toe of his shoe. He moved his feet off the file box and she reached down to grab it. He was on his feet immediately, catching her arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded more forcefully than she would have expected.

"Uh, I was going to move the box to the table?" She was so taken aback that her statement was more of a question.

"Delaney, I realize that you are exceedingly resilient and you don't think your injuries warrant concern, but you have _got_ to take it easy. Okay? You can't wield heavy boxes with stitches in your finger. I worked hard to make them straight, just like you asked. I'd appreciate if you'd refrain from ripping them out."

"It's splinted, Ray. It's not like I was going bend it."

"It doesn't matter."

"Why are you being so over-bearing and uber protective?"

"Because someone has to be! You're chasing around like everything is fine."

"Because everything _is_ fine. Is that why you decided to stay in here with me today? To keep an eye on me? Despite what you think, I'm not a kid!"

"Why are you angry at me? I compromised, didn't I? Against my better judgment, I didn't insist you stay home in bed convalescing like I should have."

"Like you…are you kidding me right now? You could insist all day long, slick. That doesn't mean I'd listen."

"Believe me, I'm well aware of that little fact. You've _never_ listened to me."

"That might have something to do with the fact that you're completely irrational when it comes to me."

"Just tell me where you want me to put the damned box," he grated, scooping it up.

"Don't tempt me," she retorted angrily. He stopped and turned back to her slowly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Delaney."

"Raymond."

"I'm going to place this box on the table. Is that satisfactory?"

"Certainly."

"Would you like anything else moved before I retrieve our lunch? Given, of course, that you find it acceptable for me to provide sustenance for you. I wouldn't want to be too over-bearing." He dropped the box on the table with aplomb. She glared at him.

"I hate you so much right now," she hissed.

"No you don't," he retorted, stepping into her personal space and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"I suppose you want your jacket back," she said grumpily, not looking directly at him.

"Laney," he coaxed.

She reluctantly turned her face so she could see him. He pressed the softest, sweetest kiss to her sullen, bruised mouth. Her heart fluttered as she allowed herself to melt into the kiss, just a bit. The kiss broke and he nudged her nose gently with his before pulling back a bit.

"Do you remember what I used to call you? When you were a child?" he asked, not relinquishing proximity. The intimacy of it made her nervous so she fidgeted with his tie uncomfortably.

"Baby doll," she replied. "Or princess, when you were angry with me."

"Do you know why I called you baby doll?" His voice was low and earnest.

"I never really thought about it," she replied honestly. He took her face in his hands to force her to look at him.

"You were the most gorgeous child I'd ever seen with those flaxen ringlets and that porcelain skin. You were so poised and brilliant, even when you were seven. My God, I'd never seen such a precocious child. You reminded me of this china doll my mother kept on our mantle. She would scold me for trying to take her down. 'She's to be revered,' she'd say. 'She's very special. Unsullied. Flawless. We must ensure we keep her that way.'

"For me, you will always be like that flawless, beautiful doll. I have to work to protect you and keep you safe. You're something that I revere and I can't, won't, let harm come to you. Do you understand? I'm not trying to be an over-bearing jackass. It physically hurts me to know that you're hurt and I didn't—couldn't—stop it."

"Raymond," she said, grasping his wrists, eyes pleading. "I'm not flawless or fragile. I bruise but I heal. I'm no doll. I won't break and cease to exist. That doll was created to be well-loved. It was created to be someone's companion. To bring solace and comfort. Not to be locked away and adored from afar. If I'm a doll, let me be a tattered bunny that's survived unimaginable things but is still adored and venerated."

"I don't know how to let you be that," he said sadly, understanding her reference.

"You let go of your fear and you share the rest. You believe in my staying power and maybe a little bit of magic."

"Magic, huh?"

"Yep. All the best stuffies have it," she teased.

"I can't believe you remember that."

"Of course I do. Those moments…," her voice faded off. She swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. "Those moments are the closest thing I've ever had to a family of my own. Even if they weren't mine. Even if they were stolen. They were some of my best days." Ray looked at her, stricken.

"I never thought…," he started.

"Thought what?"

"I never thought about how all of that affected you. I never thought about you being invested in us. Not like that."

"I loved you so I loved her. There was never a question," she said with a shrug, dropping her gaze from his. "I can't say I didn't selfishly wish that you were mine or that I didn't pretend _we_ were a family. I was a kid and I was grasping at something that didn't belong to me. I'm not proud of that."

"That must have caused you unimaginable pain. The way it all played out. Then to have the entire world tell you that I'd been manipulating your family all along, when they didn't even know the half of it. No wonder you were so bitter. I don't even know how you're standing here right now."

"You're a package deal, you and Lizzie. You always have been. You needed me then. You need me now. I'm well aware of the risk. Believe me, I've wished my whole life that I was hard wired some other way, but I'm not and I've come to accept that. All I can do is what I think is right and that will be enough. No matter the outcome. I can live with that."

"You amaze me. The purity of your intentions. I don't know how to relate to that. I don't know how to keep you safe from me. I don't want to be the one that sullies that or breaks that spirit in you. I need to know that there are good people out there."

"You keep circling around this idolatry of who you think I am. I'm not perfect. I'm no paragon. I've hurt people. Sometimes intentionally. I've done bad things to further my own agenda. Don't put me on a pedestal because I don't belong there, Raymond."

But he knew she was wrong. He'd been around some truly awful people and he knew she was different. Not perfect, but close enough for the likes of him. How selfish he'd been with her all those years ago. He'd used and exploited that connection between them and he hated himself a little bit for that.

"No pedestals," he placated. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Keep the jacket, sweetheart. I'll get us lunch."

"Raymond?"

"Delaney?" She smiled at him turning her game around on her.

"She'll never know she was the child of my heart, nor should she. But I'll never forget it. I wouldn't let anything happen to her then and I won't now."

"I know, sweetheart," he said pulling her against him. "I know."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I split this chapter and the previous chapter up because of length. My baby sister is getting married this weekend so I decided to post them both since I won't have access to a computer over the long weekend (unless I unearth my laptop from a box which, let's face it, is unlikely). I hope you all have a fantastic and restful holiday weekend. I'm kind of sad that there's no Blacklist tonight! What do normal people do on Thursday nights?**

**23: Risk**

While Ray was gone, Lane threw herself into her task. Her emotions were swirling like the long forgotten memories they'd dredged up and she wasn't prepared to face them just yet. By the time he returned, she had two distinct stacks of files, one significantly smaller than the other. Scribbling notes madly, she didn't seem to notice his return.

"You can fall down the rabbit hole faster than anyone I've ever seen," he observed, placing a paper bag on the table.

"Huh?" she asked absently, looking up.

"Hi."

"Hi. You're back already? That was quick."

He gave her a bemused look and dug out two large salad containers and a couple bottles of water. He stacked her notes in the open file folder she was working from and shoved it out of the way.

"Hey," she protested. He replaced her pen with a fork.

"Eat and I'll leave you alone for four more hours."

Her stomach growled loudly. She looked down at it and then back at him sheepishly. His lips pursed in a smirk as he tried not to laugh.

"Deal," she conceded with a sigh. She tucked into her salad, suddenly famished.

"Want to explain your madness?" he asked, sitting adjacent to her and waving his fork at her piles.

"Do you really want to know or are you asking so you can gauge when you need to interfere?"

"I told you I wouldn't," he said mildly. "I'm actually sort of fascinated by your process. You're quite singularly focused. This is a new side of Delaney Ryker for me."

"Well, I've noticed a pattern of sorts," she explained around her mouthful of food. "You've presented the task force with your blacklist but there is a distinct difference in these two piles."

"And that is?"

"The big pile is the mundane, run of the mill bad guys."

"I wouldn't go that far," Ray said with a dry chuckle.

"But you get my point. They're clear cut bad guys that keep the task force relevant, looking good, and moving forward."

"Okay. And the small pile?"

"Those are personal."

He tilted his head, studying her. "How so?"

"They all play to you and your involvement with whatever you have going on that I haven't discerned yet. They're all top 25. Except Madeline Pratt. I haven't quite figured her out yet. I can't decide if she is a dalliance that amuses you or if she plays a bigger role."

He made a noncommittal sound.

"Want to enlighten me?"

"Not especially," he replied, fluffing his lettuce with his fork. "Who else sits in that pile?"

"Milos Kirchoff, Luther Braxton, Alan Fitch, Tom Keen, and Anslo Garrick."

"Impressive."

"Not yet, but it will be. I'm on to something. I can feel it." Ray sighed heavily, telling her she was correct in her assertion. "You could just tell me and be done with it."

"I won't stop you from working it out for yourself, Delaney, but I've already told you I won't help you."

"Will you answer me truthfully when I do figure something out?"

"Unless I feel like it will endanger you or Lizzie," he conceded.

"Deal. What is the Fulcrum? Liz alluded to it the other day. It's the reason you went toe to toe with Braxton. What is this shadow group she mentions in her notes?"

"The Fulcrum is a blackmail file that would expose and destroy the group. They call themselves the Cabal."

"And who forms the Cabal?"

"Influential men and women in every sector of society across the world who believe they know what's best for the future."

She sat back and pondered that for a moment, narrowing her eyes at him in concentration and running her tongue absently over the bruised portion of her lip.

"That's ridiculously far-reaching and Panglossian for any kind of clandestine group."

"You have no idea," he returned, scratching at his cheek absently.

"How does it stay secret then?"

"Their members are hand selected by the Director. They're relatively limited and exclusive."

"So basically the key players are aware of the larger objective and then they utilize their own people to…what? Propel their plans forward without any direct knowledge of the end game?"

"Exactly."

"And the Fulcrum is what? A list of players?"

"Partly but it's much more than that."

"How so?" she asked, brow furrowed with puzzlement.

"I won't tell you that."

"Fine. So the Cabal, at least in part, believes you have the Fulcrum?"

"Yes."

"But you don't or you wouldn't have been concerned about Luther Braxton finding it at The Factory." Ray said nothing. "But you have _some_thing. At least, they believe you do. It's your leverage. And somehow Elizabeth plays into that. I mean, you're protecting her from something."

"Eat," he ordered, trying to change the subject. She speared a shrimp absently and popped it in her mouth to placate him. Her mind was racing.

"You have to have a failsafe. A contingency plan. It would be too dangerous to keep it on or around you. They have to know that killing you wouldn't make it go away. You would make that a reason for dissemination, I suspect. To protect yourself for as long as they believe you have it."

"Remind me never to play Risk with you," he said dryly.

"You have. You always beat me."

"I don't know if that would be the case now. You're too clever by half."

"Flattery will not distract me," she admonished, gently. "Braxton derailed you in that he exposed that you're not in possession of the Fulcrum, didn't he? I understand how that endangers _you_ but not Elizabeth. If anything, it should ensure she's a non-threat. The _only_ way she is a threat to them is if she has direct knowledge of its location or possession of it. Which leaves her in play and puts a bigger target on you. With you gone, they have nothing stopping them from getting to her. The question I have is this…."

"Let's hear it." She'd noticed on some level that he'd paled considerably but her thoughts were tumbling out so quickly now that she couldn't stop them.

"Why would you give her access to something like that? After disappearing from her life for 25 years, why would you bring it to her _now_, knowing it would endanger her?"

He'd stopped eating completely now and had become silent.

"You wouldn't," she answered, the truth dawning on her. "If you left 25 years ago to protect her, you wouldn't bring it to her now. That means she had prior knowledge. But not _knowledge_ because she would have been too young to understand, yes? She had some sort of _exposure_ to it. That's why you hid her and ran. Misdirection. A child that small would be harmless. You run, they focus on you. Elizabeth, especially once hidden, is forgotten. So why come back unless she's the key and they've figured that out."

"There's more at play than that. It's not that simple."

"Raymond."

"Delaney."

"Does Elizabeth have the Fulcrum?"

"You know I can't answer that."

"I think you just did."


	24. Chapter 24

**24: We're All Mad**

Lane's mind raced with all the things she'd learned over the last few hours. The Fulcrum, the Cabal. It sounded like something out of the spy novels her mother had loved. She was having difficulty wrapping her mind around it all. She pulled her laptop over to her and entered "cabal" into the search engine.

The vague search led her to a link about masonic conspiracy theories and from there she was presented with a wealth of knowledge. She read for hours, following blue links to more blue links. She scribbled notes furiously, stunned that it was all so readily available.

Ray, who had abandoned her in search of entertainment some time earlier, came back in the office. She didn't glance up but rather kept working. He came around her chair and ran her ponytail through his hand.

"I take it you're on to something? You have that look on your face."

"What look?" she asked absently, still writing.

"That dogged, stubborn, 'I'm going to figure this out' look you get when someone puts an obstacle in your way." Her only acknowledgment was a sound in her throat. He shook his head, curious. "So what have you dredged up in my absence?"

She leaned back in the chair, which essentially settled her against him. His hands moved to her shoulders, his thumbs kneading the knotted muscles lightly, not wanting to press on any hidden bruises. She turned her neck to one side and then the other with a deep sigh. She'd swear he had the hand of a god.

"I decided to do a basic search on the Cabal. That led me to masonic conspiracy theories and on to New World Order." She tipped her head back so she could see his face.

"Interesting," he said, impassively.

"Interesting?" she asked incredulously. "This is pure madness."

"'We're all mad here.'"

"Raymond, this is global totalitarianism. It's all the crazy things we believe tinfoil hat-wearing nut jobs are insane for believing. It's…I just can't make myself fathom the impossible."

"Really? 'Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.'" She made a sound of frustration.

"Stop quoting Lewis Carroll at me, damnit."

"Seemed fitting," he said with a shrug. "You're a bit like Alice right now, aren't you? Down and down you fall."

"And who are you? The White Rabbit in his fussy waistcoat? The Cheshire Cat with all his oration?"

"King of Hearts?" he quipped with a twitch of his lips. She tilted her head thoughtfully.

"The Mad Hatter, frozen in time, always awaiting the Queen's justice."

"Apropos," he agreed.

"Isn't it just? In all seriousness, this is insane. I need alcohol to process this crap."

"I have a lovely Pouilly-Fume."

"I prefer red."

"That's what I hear," Ray said with a wink.

"Hilarious, smart ass," she grinned, rolling her eyes.

"Since when?"

"Since when what?"

"Do you prefer red wine?"

"Uh, since I turned 21 and my taste buds matured past Boone's Farm."

"Like you ever drank Boone's Farm a day in your life," he said, shaking his head. "Besides, I saw the crap you were eating with Lizzie. Your taste buds aren't that mature."

"Oh, hush your mouth," she said with a laugh.

"You about ready to call it a night? Everyone else has left."

"Um, sure, if you are. I can do this at home."

"You can rest at home," he said gruffly.

"Raymond."

"Delaney."

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Your face says differently."

"Did you just call me ugly?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What? _No_. Don't be stupid."

"Ugly _and_ stupid. Wow."

Ray let his head drop back with a defeated sigh as he stared at the ceiling. "How do you _do _that?"

"Years of practice, sweetheart," she said, patting his arm as she stood. "Now I suppose I have to give you your jacket back?"

"It does complete the look," he said, lips twitching, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Too bad. I was so enjoying the view." She turned and shrugged out of it so he could take it.

"Stop flirting," he chuckled, removing the jacket from her and putting it on.

"Just stating a fact," she said with a shrug. He lifted his chin so she could button his top button and cinch up his tie. "Where's Dembe?"

"He won't be with us this evening."

Lane settled back for the drive, unexpectedly weary. She yawned hugely and ignored the look that he shot her. The splint on her left hand made it impossible for them to hold hands and she found that she missed the feel of his warm palm pressed against hers. How could he be caught up in something so incredibly mind-blowing?

She knew she should have a million and one questions for him but it was all so new that she couldn't put voice to them. And, honestly, even if she could, it was unlikely that he'd answer. It scared her to think of the power behind all of it pointed directly at Ray. All those years that he faced it alone. She reached across the center console and rest her hand on top of his, needing the contact. He seemed to understand the necessity of her action and his thumb stroked the side of her palm reassuringly. She drifted off, listening to the big band music he'd found on the radio.

"Laney, we're almost there," Ray said gently, rubbing her leg.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said around a yawn. She sat straight up when she saw where they were. "The Hay? Are you crazy? Ray, this is too high profile. One of us is bound to be recognized."

"High profile is good," he replied. "It sends the message that we're not fearful."

"So we should go stroll Lafayette Square and thumb our noses at a kill squad?"

"Not a bad idea, actually."

"Not a bad…are you _insane_? It's a _horrible_ idea."

"Smile, Princess. It's time to play your part," he said, pulling into valet parking.

"My part? In leggings with nothing on my face but bruises?" she squeaked, panicked.

"You wear class like most wear their skin. Just be yourself," he whispered, kissing her cheek cheerfully.

"I hate you right now," she whispered furiously as a man opened her door to help her out. She pretended not to notice his pause and stepped gracefully past him. She came around the car to Ray who held his hand out. She placed hers in it and he tucked it in to the crook of his arm. They were led up to their suite where a man in an expensive suit was waiting for them.

"Mr. Kensington, we're so glad to have you back with us. It's been far too long," his cultured voice rang out graciously.

"Indeed, Steven. My companion, Bianca Huston." Lane smiled politely, bowing her head briefly.

"A pleasure, Ms. Huston," the man said formally, a hint of disdain on his features. "Everything is as you requested, Mr. Kensington. Should you require anything else, please let me know."

"Thank you, Steven." As soon as the man exited, Lane rounded on him.

"You have _got_ to find something better to call me than your companion."

"Why? That's what you are," he said, brow furrowed in confusion at her ire.

"That man thinks you're paying for my companionship!"

"Don't be ridiculous, darling. If I had paid an escort, she would be dressed to the nines."

"You're such an ass," she growled. He caught her hand and drew her near him.

"Why are you upset?" he asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Because I'm not used to being looked down upon and I find I don't care for it much."

"If it bothers you, princess, I will buy you a big diamond ring and tell them you're my fiancé."

"I hate when you call me princess," she pouted, "and don't be ridiculous."

"Darling, if he knew you were a Ryker, he would treat you as you're accustomed to being treated. You know that. I'm too old to call you my girlfriend and anything else would have a worse connotation than 'companion' considering we're sharing a suite."

"Okay," she said with a sigh.

"Okay?"

"Just don't give me a title."

"Because fiancé is objectionable as well?"

"No, because it's us and I don't want your fake ring on my finger. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough. I've had dinner ordered up and there is a lovely Cheval Blanc breathing. May I pour you a glass?"

She looked at him for a long moment, her brow puckered, and then nodded with a heavy sigh. She flung herself down on the nearest couch, feeling grumpy and mildly headachy. She watched as Ray removed his coat and tie. He loosened the top button completely unaware that she was studying him. His tailor really should be commended. She took a moment to appreciate the drape of his trousers and the snugness of his vest. He really was beautiful.

"Stop that," he scolded gently, handing her a glass and sitting next to her. She tucked her feet up, her knees resting against his thigh, and snuggled into his side a bit. He rested his left arm on her knees and sniffed his wine, spinning the glass a bit.

"Tell me you're not indulging me with a fifteen hundred dollar bottle of wine while I look like a bedraggled prostitute."

"Would you stop with that nonsense? You'd be gorgeous in a burlap sack. It's just us. Besides, I find I enjoy spoiling you." She sipped the wine, humming with approval.

"Spoil away." He pressed a kiss to her temple intending to do just that.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Thank you for the reviews and follows. I can't believe anyone is actually still reading and it totally makes my day! This chapter is just kind of a set up for the next. You know the one where everything goes all to hell? Yeah. That.**

**25: Trust**

Red enjoyed the view of Lafayette Square from the couch as he and Laney sipped their wine. She was warm against his side and he absently rubbed his thumb over her knee. He was growing accustomed to these quiet moments of unexpected intimacy. He craved them when she wasn't there. Last night, riddled with worry and guilt, had been awful without her.

Laney had never been one to hold a grudge for long. Her anger was generally predicated in hurt and when she made her peace with that, she moved on easily. He envied her that, although he knew she'd hated that about herself growing up. Her heart was so big and open and she found joy in everything. It radiated from her like sunlight and it lit the darkest recess of his now blackened soul. The places he'd given up on. Simply, she gave him hope and the knowledge humbled him. There was a knock at the door and she startled a bit next to him. He rubbed his hand over her leg with comfortingly.

"Dinner," he reassured her. She unfolded her rangy length from the couch and set her glass gently on the table.

"You take care of that. I'll be back in a moment."

Puzzled, he watched her walk into their sleeping quarters and shut the door. Cautiously, he opened the hall door and allowed the attendant to set their meal at the formal dining table. Lane was rejoining him as he tipped the man at the door. When he turned, he froze, heart hammering.

She had changed into a flowing floral sundress that left her back bare. She'd taken her hair out of the ponytail and it hung in wild waves around her bare shoulders. She'd merely changed her clothes and taken down her hair. That was it. The effect shouldn't have been so stunning. Breathtaking.

"You look lovely, Delaney," he managed. "You didn't have to change.

"I wanted to," she said with a soft smile.

"Why?"

"Because it's a lovely night with a lovely man, a lovely bottle of wine, and what I expect will be a lovely meal. I wanted to fit."

"You will always fit," he said gruffly, needing to touch her. He crossed to her and ran his hands down the length of her arms, appreciating the soft warmth of her skin beneath his palms.

"I wanted the reaction," she replied, her voice little more than a whisper as she looked up at him through her lashes.

"What reaction is that?" She held him mesmerized, his brain addled by her.

"The one where you remember I'm a woman and not just little Laney Ryker."

"I assure you, darling, I've been well aware of that fact since New York."

"Have you? Because I enjoy the look." Her lips curved ever so slightly in a playful smile.

"Is that so?" Charmed, he found that he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss that smile right off her face.

"All sultry and predatory? Yes. That's so."

Intoxicated by her warmth, her smile, her eyes, Red found that he could resist her no longer. Gently, aware of her bruises, he cupped her face in his hands and took her mouth with his. She melted against him, hooking her uninjured hand in the V of his vest, anchoring her to him. His hands left her face and went to her bare back, pulling her more fully against him. She gasped into his mouth, arching into him as he rasped his nails gently down the curve of her spine.

He wanted her so badly that it physically pained him but he knew he wouldn't indulge either one of them tonight. She was still in pain, even if she was too stubborn to admit it. Instead, he'd baby her and allow her to heal properly. He found that option wasn't without its appeals too. He gently broke the kiss and enveloped her in a hug. She cuddled in to him, content as a kitten in the sun. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then another for good measure.

"Shall we eat before it gets cold?" he asked, hoarsely. She nodded and allowed him to guide her to her chair with a gentle hand on the small of her back. He pulled her chair out and scooted it in when she sat.

"This looks wonderful," she said, placing her napkin in her lap.

Red had always appreciated a good dinner companion and he decided that he enjoyed Laney the most. She was witty, clever, charming, and beautiful. He loved the way her whole face lit up when she laughed and how she covered her mouth when she was overcome with mirth. Their conversations ranged from the mundane to the philosophical and she followed the flow of his stream of consciousness with ease.

Red was pleased to see that she ate heartily. She had a tendency to get side tracked while eating if she didn't just forget altogether. It was maddening to him. She really should take better care of herself. He'd made sure there were strawberries and cream just for her after their meal. She'd loved them since she was a kid and he'd hoped the wine and a full stomach would set her at ease and allow her to rest peacefully.

After their leisurely meal, he insisted on checking her finger. The swelling had gone down significantly and it looked like it was starting to seal. He knew she was aggravated by the splint but he rebandaged her finger with it on.

"How does it feel?" he asked, securing the self-adhesive gauze around it.

"Like my finger got ripped open," she said dryly, brow raised. He gave her a dry look before returning to his task.

"Next time, just let me take the damn shot."

"You didn't have the damn shot or you would have taken it regardless," she retorted. He chuckled. She wasn't wrong.

"What shall we do this evening?" he asked, packing the supplies back into the supply kit.

"Can we just relax and watch a movie? Is that lame? I'm tired."

_Wow, an admission of weakness. She must be exhausted_, he thought. In truth, so was he and the thought of relaxing with her sounded just about perfect.

"Not lame," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her head as he stood.

He stored the supply kit and poured them both another glass of wine. He handed her hers and toed off his shoes before settling down next to her. He flipped on the TV and scanned the channels until she stopped him.

"Ginger Rogers! Let's watch this one," she declared excitedly.

"I'd forgotten you were obsessed with her growing up," Red said with amusement, dropping the remote and settling back.

"That was your fault," she retorted, slating a glance at him.

"_My_ fault?"

"Yep. You made me watch Shall We Dance and that was it. I knew I wanted to be her when I grew up," she said through amusement at herself.

"So I'm totally responsible for paving the road to Broadway?" he teased.

"I mean, I definitely put in the work and tap danced my happy ass right on down that road, but basically. Yes." He watched as she tossed a pillow onto his lap and made herself at home.

"Comfy?" he asked, amused.

"Yes, thank you," she said pluckily, doing a little shimmy where she lay. Red resituated so he was more reclined and propped his feet up. "Be still."

"Listen, Bossy…."

"Shh, I'm trying to watch a movie," she teased. He ran his fingers over her exposed side, tickling her. She squealed, capturing his hand, and rolling over to her back. "No no. No tickling."

Laney folded her hands over his on her stomach and pulled her knees up, uncaring that her legs were exposed in her skirt. She turned her face back to the movie but Red couldn't make himself concentrate on it. He played with her hair, letting his mind wander. He could let himself get used to this. In a different place under different circumstances, he could be happy with this life and this woman. That thought caught him off guard. He never would have imagined all those years ago that he would find himself at fifty-five yearning for Delaney Ryker to be his.

Red was aware when she drifted off in his lap but he was content to let her sleep for a while. Despite the bruises, her face was relaxed and totally unguarded. It made him feel strangely invincible to know that she trusted him enough to let her guard down completely. Laney was fierce and she didn't need anyone to take care of her. Yet, somehow, that just made him more determined to do so.

"Laney," he whispered, running his fingers up and down her arm slowly to wake her. She turned her face toward him, her eyes still closed, her mouth pouty. He couldn't help but smile. "Let's go to bed, sweetheart."

Her eyes opened slowly and she looked directly at him. She blinked once and let her eyes slide shut.

"I fell asleep," she mumbled.

"Yes, you did. Why don't we go fall asleep in bed?"

"Okay," she said, unmoving. He waited for a moment.

"Laney."

"Mmhm?"

"Can you look at me?" Her eyes blink opened and then focused. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Bed?"

"Okay," she agreed, sitting up.

She sat cross legged, staring blankly, her hair askew. Red felt the corner of his mouth creep up in a half smile. He offered his hand. She looked at it for a moment before her brain processed what to do. She took it and he helped her off the couch. He led her by the hand to their room. Handing her night clothes to her, he pointed her toward the bathroom. By the time she changed, he had as well and had crawled in to bed. In her usual way, she just crawled over him to get to her side of the bed instead of walking around. He really didn't mind much. When she was settled, he flipped out the light.

"Raymond?" Her voice was small and almost uncertain in the dark.

"Yes, Delaney?"

"Will you hold me?"

"You don't even have to ask, sweetheart," he said, pulling her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and burrowed into his chest.

"I missed you last night," she said softly.

"I missed you too," he admitted, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Let's not do that again."

"Deal. Tomorrow is a new day, yes? Let's just focus on the kill squad and the Cabal and trust each other."

"Sleep now, darling. Tomorrow _is_ a new day."


	26. Chapter 26

**26: Busted**

Laney awoke sprawled half on top of Ray the next morning feeling completely rested. She allowed herself to enjoy it for just a moment before she shifted to the side. His arm around her body tightened, holding her in place.

"Not yet," he murmured. She stacked her hands on his chest, resting her cheek on them, her forehead pressed to his cheek.

"I'm sorry I staked my claim," she said, her voice rough with sleep.

"Sweetheart, if I could wake up like this every day for the rest of my life, I'd die a happy man."

"That's quite the admission, Raymond Reddington," she whispered, taken aback.

"Simply the truth," he replied, running his fingers down the groove of her spine.

"Well good, because I wasn't really that sorry."

He chuckled at her. She leaned up and pressed a laughing kiss to his mouth. His hand on the back of her head anchored her in place as he deepened the kiss lazily. She sank into it languorously and allowed him to roll her over on to her back. She clung to his shirt with one hand, the other moving to his back. He captured both her hands and pinned them next to her head. He broke the kiss and nudged her nose with his.

"If you keep kissing me like that and stopping, I _will_ kill you," she said severely, frustrated.

"I will not make love to you while you're bruised up," he said gruffly.

"Well that's a nice change. At least you're finally entertaining the idea."

"I've been entertaining the idea since you walked into the briefing office spitting mad that first day."

"Then you'd better hope I heal quickly or I'm going to push the issue." His laugh rumbled over them both as he leaned down and applied himself to her neck for a moment. She writhed under him even as she tried to free her hands.

"That curve between your neck and shoulder is deliciously sensitive," he purred, rolling off her, flopping down on his back and flinging an arm over his eyes.

"God, I hate you so much right now," she whined, turning her head to glare at him. He moved his arm enough to peak at her and grinned.

"I beg to differ."

"Careful or you will beg."

"Promises, promises. What do you want to do today?"

"Besides stay in bed and convince you I don't hurt _that_ much?"

"Yes," he said, lips twitching with amusement at her ire.

"I'd like to see if I can find Beth a communion dress and a gift. I can go alone if it sounds dreadfully boring."

"It's perfect, actually. I need to get Lizzie a birthday gift."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing extravagant. She'd reject whatever I try to give her." She could tell that knowledge pained him.

"I'm sorry, babe," she said softly, reaching across and laying her hand on his stomach, palm up. Sometimes she just needed to touch him. Needed that connection. He seemed to understand that.

"It is what it is."

He ordered up breakfast while she made a valiant attempt to bathe herself without help. She finally had to call him in when it was time to wash her hair. It was a fairly perfunctory exercise as Ray seemed to be a million miles away all of the sudden. Lane remained quiet as he lathered and rinsed. Her own mind wandered to all that she had learned over the last few weeks. It boggled the mind, really. She dressed and they ate, the national news playing quietly in the background.

When they'd finished breaking their fast, they bundled up to go run their errands. Lane wore a soft, cream-colored boat neck shirt, dark jeans, and boots. She pulled on her dark gray, woolen pea coat and struggled with the buttons. Ray pushed her hands away gently and buttoned her up. She gave a frustrated huff.

"Just a few more days," he promised her. "You need gloves. It's chilly."

"Mine are leather. There's no way they're fitting over this nonsense," she said, glaring at the splint.

"We'll get you some mittens while we're out," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her palm. He tilted her chin and studied her face. She had applied makeup liberally and managed to cover up most of the bruising. "Hardly noticeable."

"See? Nearly as good as new. Told you I was okay." She busied herself lining up his tie and the lapels of both his suit jacket and overcoat.

"Makeup may artfully hide the bruises, but they're still there, my sweet."

"Ugh, what happened to my indulgent Raymond? I need to borrow him for a few minutes," she said with a huff.

"Only a few minutes?" he asked, casting a sardonic look at her.

"Hours? Days? Lifetimes? Whatever. Just give me what I want," she whined, drawing out the last in a fake sob.

"Stop tempting me," he whispered, just before his mouth took hers in a kiss that held a desperate edge. His hands clutched at her waist through the layers of her clothes and she winced as he caught the bruise on her ribs just right. "Son of a bitch, Delaney. _That's_ why I want to wait."

"It's just a bruise. It didn't hurt that much," she said, clutching at his lapels as he threw up his hands.

"You jumped. It clearly hurt," his face was frustrated, bordering on angry.

"What's a little pain between lovers?" she teased.

"Yeah, we'll come back to that when you're not covered in bruises. Can we please get out of this suite before we make a mistake? _Please_?"

It was still quite chilly for late April in DC, so their first stop was to get mittens that would fit over the ungainly splint. Lane protested when Ray picked out a lovely cashmere set that included a scarf and hat in a soft dove gray.

"This is too much, Raymond," Lane objected. "These are ridiculously expensive. The cotton or wool ones are perfectly fine and functional."

"Delaney," he said reasonably, signifying he was about to get his way.

"Raymond."

"These are exquisite and the exact shade of your eyes. I would like to buy them for you because it makes me happy to do so. Would you deny me this happiness?"

"Can I at least purchase them for myself?"

"Delaney."

"_Fine_," she said with a sigh. It didn't sit well with her and she wasn't sure why. Maybe because he was so openly generous and she wanted to make sure she was the one person who didn't take that for granted.

"These are gorgeous," the clerk said as he checked them out. "Shall I gift wrap them for you?"

"I think she'll wear them now," Ray replied with a charming smile.

"Oh, of course! It's so cold today."

He removed the tags for them and slid them across the marble counter top. Like he was dressing a child, Ray helped her put the mittens on. He wrapped the scarf around her neck and pulled her long curls free. He smiled into her eyes and she rolled hers at him as he pulled the hat down.

"Stunning," he said proudly.

"That's the sweetest thing I've seen in a while," the clerk said conspiratorially to Lane. "He's a keeper."

"He is pretty great, isn't he," she agreed, smirking at Ray who watched her, amused.

"I hope I find someone who adores me that much someday. You're a lucky lady."

"I am," Lane agreed, tucking her gloved hand into Ray's. "Thank you for your help."

"Come back and see us. Stay warm!"

"Thank you," Lane said sincerely, tugging Ray down enough to kiss his cheek. He accepted it graciously. "There's a jewelry store a few doors down. Let's go there. I think I'd like to get Beth a necklace."

They sauntered, hand in hand, enjoying the fresh air despite the chill. They entered the store and Lane made a bee line for the necklaces. Everything sparkled under the strategically placed lights and the room smelled faintly of cinnamon spice. It was quite welcoming.

"How may I assist you?" a well-dressed older woman with white hair asked.

"My comp…." Lane shot Ray a severe look, halting his words. "We'd like to look at necklaces for a First Communion."

"Oh, how exciting! Your daughter?"

"My niece, actually," Lane corrected before Ray could run away with _that_ story.

"And what did you have in mind?"

"A cross, I think. Gold. With an 18 inch chain," Lane said.

"The chain will be easy enough. Let me show you a few pendants and you can decide what's suitable," the woman said, pulling out a black velvet display tray. She laid out several delicate choices from a simple gold cross to a beautiful sapphire and diamond one.

"What were you thinking?" Ray asked, watching her eye them all thoughtfully.

"Ideally, I'd like it to be something she can wear into adulthood," she replied, worrying her lip with her teeth.

"The sapphire is beautiful," he replied.

"It really is but I'm thinking it's too overstated for an eight year old. She is just as likely to rip it off in ballet or lose it on the playground at school. I'd hate for her to risk losing that because she's so young."

"It's only money, darling," he pointed out. She shot him a look.

"And she needs to learn how to be responsible for it and to cherish precious gifts," Lane said pointedly.

"Little girls should be spoiled."

"Do you remember what I got for high school graduation?"

"Pearls. It's your family's tradition."

"And now that I'm an adult and I have other jewelry, what do you see me wear most often?" He tilted his head as his eyes slid to her ears and her pearl earrings.

"Point taken," he said, his lips twitching. "So what do you prefer?"

"I think the dainty one with the opals. It's understated, classic, and modest. I think it fits Beth to a T."

"It's a lovely choice," the woman agreed.

"Mine," Lane said, staying Ray's hand when he attempted to make the purchase. They walked out a few minutes later with a pretty cream gift bag lined with gold paper.

"Sure you don't want that ring while we're here, Companion?" he teased.

"Positive," she laughed. "Besides, that hardly seems your style. I feel certain you have a jeweler on retainer who would find you the best diamond on the market and design some ridiculously gorgeous ring for you."

"How well you know me," he said with a chuckle, putting his arm around her and pressing a kiss to her temple. Their next stop was a dress shop.

"I remember shopping for my dress with Mother."

"We were in Massachusetts then. I remember your First Communion. You refused to wear the veil and your mother was scandalized."

"I hated that damn thing and I won't be buying one today either."

"Why?"

"It has always creeped me out for some reason. I understand it's our tradition and lots of people do it. I just don't like it."

"You were awfully cute with your fluffy white dress and ringlets."

"I can't believe you remember that," she said with a laugh as they entered the store. "I'm going to call Danny and see what he wants her to have."

"Like your brother is going to have an opinion on an eight year old's dress," Ray said dryly.

"Fair point, which is why I'm doing this. But I'll ask anyway," she said with a laugh. She pulled off a glove and dug her phone out of her purse. It rang twice before Danny answered.

"Ryker."

"Hey, Danny."

"Hey, Sis. What's up?"

"Well, I thought I'd get Beth a communion dress but I wasn't sure what she wanted," she said, pulling a couple off the rack.

"I don't even know where to start," he said honestly. "We're about to walk into Farragut's. If we don't find one here, I'll let you know."

"Okay," she said, heart pounding. "Talk to you soon."

"What?" Ray asked, concern on his face at her obvious panic.

"They're about to walk in."

"Who?"

"Danny and Beth! We have to go. Maybe there's a back…."

"Auntie Lane!" Beth's voice broke in.

"Shit," Lane muttered. _Busted._


	27. Chapter 27

**27: Waking Nightmare**

"Hi, baby!" Lane said, plastering on a fake smile and hugging her sweet niece close. "I think you've grown a foot since I saw you at Christmas."

"Did you pick those for me?" Beth asked, bouncing a little, her dark blue eyes sparkling like twin diamonds.

"I did," Lane replied, watching the men eyeball each other.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here," Danny growled at Ray, hovering over them both.

"It's good to see you too, Dan," Ray said dryly.

"Go f…."

"_Hey_," Lane broke in.

"Why don't you take Beth to try on her dresses, darling," Ray suggested, not removing his eyes from his former best friend, who was likely to choke him out if he let his guard down.

"She's not your darling. She's not _your_ anything, you traitorous son of a bitch."

"_Daniel_," Lane scolded.

"Delaney, do as you're told," Ray ordered, his tone brooking no argument. She bristled but took Beth's hand.

"Behave yourself," she said, glaring at Danny. She turned her glare on Ray. "_Both_ of you."

Neither bothered to acknowledge her. She huffed and led Beth away. _Stupid testosterone riddled Y chromosome_, she thought.

"Why is Daddy mad at your friend?" Beth asked, her voice small.

"Because boys are stupid, Bethy," Lane replied, throwing a glare at them over her shoulder for good measure. Beth giggled. "Go ahead and put the first dress on, okay? I'm going to get some shoes so we can make sure the dress is the right length."

She made sure Beth was shut safely inside the dressing room and then stalked over to the two men. Ray's posture was deceptively casual, his face vaguely amused. Danny was clearly furious and he had pulled himself up to his considerable height.

"Listen, you morons," she whispered at them furiously, attempting to interrupt.

"You said you'd stay away from her. That was our agreement. But lo and behold, here you are." Lane's head jerked toward her brother at that statement.

"You really are an idiot," Ray said, mouth pursed with disdain and what Lane suspected was anger.

"Wait, what do you mean your 'agreement?'" Lane demanded.

"Delaney, go…."

"Back off, Raymond," she snapped. "What agreement, Danny?"

"There are things at play that you don't understand, Laney," Danny said.

She'd heard that phrase too much recently. She went still, studying her brother. There was something in his tone, in his demeanor. She slowly turned her gaze to Ray, whose face was carefully blank. That was more telling to her than anything.

"Oh my God," she said, her heart pounding. Was it possible Danny knew about the Cabal? The Fulcrum?

"Delaney, this isn't the time or place. Go help Bethany."

Ray's voice was almost bland as her brain flooded with questions. She grabbed shoes for Beth, ignoring her shaking hands and the sudden wave of nausea. Lane tapped on Beth's door, painting a phony smile on her mouth. She wouldn't upset Beth but she planned to get answers. Soon. Beth swung the door open. She wore a tea length, trumpet hemmed dress.

"I can't do the zipper," Beth said.

Lane zipped it for her and tied the cornflower blue sash. She pulled the white satin shoes out of the box and helped strap them on. Beth preened in front of the mirror for a moment, twisting this way and that. Lane couldn't blame her. She looked adorable.

"Want to show Daddy?"

"Yeah!" Lane took her hand and led her out.

"What do you think?" Lane asked in a forcefully bright tone, quelling any further argument between Ray and Danny.

"If she likes it, it's fine," Danny said dismissively, still pissed.

Beth's face fell a little and it broke Lane's heart. If she'd been standing closer, she would have cuffed her brother on the back of the head for being an idiot. Ray gave him an incredulous look and shook his head at Danny before turning to Beth.

"You look beautiful, Beth," Ray said, smiling at her. "Just as pretty as your Auntie Lane when she made her first communion."

"You knew Auntie Lane then?" Beth asked, brightening.

"I sure did."

"Wow! I'm as pretty as that?"

"You look just like an angel," Ray assured her. She giggled and smiled up at Lane.

"I like your friend," she stage whispered.

"Me too," Lane whispered back, ignoring Danny's glare. "Shall we go try on the other one?"

"I don't think so. I like this one best," Beth said, taking her hand. Lane turned to follow her.

"She's only your little girl for a while, Dan. Don't waste it by being a jackass," Ray said tiredly. Lane glared over her shoulder.

"Language," she hissed.

Lane helped Beth get the shoes and dress off, hanging the dress while Beth put her clothes back on. Her niece babbled happily, oblivious to the turmoil roiling between the adults. Lane did her best to keep up but her mind kept drifting back to the "agreement." What agreement? Ray had led her to believe that he didn't know much about their lives after he left. That he hadn't had contact with her family. What could possibly be at play that she didn't understand besides the Cabal? Was Danny trying to help Ray get free? Is that why Ray was back? The men stopped talking immediately when they rejoined them.

"Raymond," Lane said, placing the dress and shoes on the counter.

"Yes, darling." Danny bristled at the familiar endearment.

"There is a pastry shop two doors down. Why don't you take Beth to get a cookie and hot chocolate and we'll meet you guys down there."

"Yeah! Can we Daddy? Pleeeeease," Beth begged, bouncing.

"Okay, pumpkin. But only one cookie," Danny agreed reluctantly.

"Yeah!" Beth crowed.

"Hot chocolate?" Ray asked Lane quietly.

"Please."

"Don't be long. This isn't safe for them," he whispered so Beth couldn't hear him. He pressed a quick kiss to her temple and held his hand out to Beth.

"Well, that's certainly new," Danny said caustically, paying for the purchases.

"Want to fill me in?" Lane asked, raising a brow and ignoring his tone.

"Not particularly."

"Do it anyway."

"Laney, you have no idea what he's in the middle of and it needs to stay that way." They walked outside and Lane shivered against the cold. "What the hell happened to your face?" He grabbed her chin and turned her face to the sunlight. She slapped his hand away, annoyed.

"That elephant in the corner you think I'm unaware of, I suspect. Spill, Danny."

"_This_ is why he wasn't supposed to have contact with you. I _knew_ he couldn't not contact you," he growled half to himself, running a hand through his short hair.

"Actually, he didn't. I owed a friend a favor. Ray was it."

"Oh yeah? And how does that work? What kind of favor?"

"That is none of your business," she snapped, knowing she couldn't disclose her service to him. "How long have you been in contact with him?"

"Since Beth was kidnapped. I saw him at the zoo when the FBI found her."

"And you didn't say anything to me? That was over a goddamn year ago," she snapped.

"You don't understand."

"Then _help_ me to! I'm sick to death of secrets."

"Ray is on the wrong side of some very powerful people. They _will_ kill him, Laney," he said, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a shake.

"And you expect me to stand by and watch that happen? Why would I do that? Why would _you_ do that?" she asked, incredulously.

"Look at his chargers. He's a traitor to this country."

"Why don't I believe that?"

"You used to."

"Because you and Daddy told me that's how it was. But what if you're wrong? What if he's being set up because he's a threat?" Danny narrowed his eyes, tipping his head to the side and studying her.

"How much _do_ you know?"

"Danny, I need you to be real honest with me right now. Are you in trouble?" Lane held her breath while she waited for his reply. He sighed heavily, running his hand through his close-cropped sandy hair again.

"I wasn't until he showed back up."

"Oh, Danny," she breathed, covering her mouth, fear freezing her heart.

Ray and Beth came out of the shop, Beth happily munching on a peanut butter cookie and carrying her drink. Ray held three cups. He motioned to Lane to take hers and then handed one to Danny, who suddenly looked haggard. How had they gotten into this mess?

"It's time to go, pumpkin. Tell Auntie Lane bye," Danny said, tiredly. Beth set her cup down and jumped into Lane's arms.

"Bye, Auntie Lane. Thank you for helping me find a dress!"

"You're welcome, baby," Lane said, holding her tight for a moment. She set her back on her feet.

"Thank you for the snack," Beth said, hugging Ray's waist. Lane watched the emotions chase across his face.

"Anytime, angel," he said. Lane hugged her brother, concern coursing through her.

"I'll see you next week," Lane said as Danny took Beth's hand and led her away.

"Love your brains," Beth called over her shoulder.

"Love your guts," Lane replied with a sad smile.

Lane turned to Ray wordlessly. She studied him, looking beyond that carefully blank mask. She knew the answers were there and it scared the hell out of her. She spun on her heel and walked away, tears threatening. What were they mixed up in? Ray didn't try to stop her, just kept pace as she walked back to the car. She turned up the music on the ride and stared out the window, needing to be left to her own thoughts. She finally turned to him when they entered their suite.

"How deeply is he involved?" she asked quietly.

"Now that he has Beth? The Cabal owns him," Ray said honestly, unceremoniously. Lane sat down right in the middle of the floor. "Sweetheart."

"This is a nightmare," she muttered, pulling her hat off with numb fingers. "Wh…How did you two even become involved in this?"

"You don't want the answers to these questions, Delaney," he warned, tension around his eyes and mouth.

"I do. I _need_ to know. How could you not tell me? How could you get involved in something so twisted?"

"It's not black and white, baby. I know you need it to be that but it's not."

"You and Danny were both in intelligence back then. Is that how you got dragged into this? Were you part of the Cabal?" Lane was afraid of the answer but she needed to hear it just the same. Ray walked away from her to stand in front of the window, gazing out on the square, unseeing.

"We were sponsored in, yes," he said finally.

"What, like some kind of messed up fraternity?"

"Exactly like that."

"And who sponsored you."

"Delaney."

"Raymond, I swear to God. If you don't tell me the truth, I'm done. I'm fucking done."

"Your father sponsored us."

"My…my father. My father was a member of a clandestine organization?"

"Sweetheart. Your father wasn't just a member. He was the director. Danny didn't have a choice."

With that blow, Lane allowed herself to sink back on the plush carpet. She stared at the ceiling wishing the world would just open up and swallow her whole. A tear escaped from her eye and traced hotly down her temple to her ear. How could her honorable father be so…ignoble? And her big brother—her hero? With a sigh that bespoke the weight of the secrets he carried, Ray left her to her thoughts.


	28. Chapter 28

**28: Little Mouse**

Red's mind raced as he sat on the couch, staring out the window to where the White House stood beyond the square. Laney slept on the floor where she had sat down in her shock at his revelation. She'd lain there for a time, staring at the ceiling, silent but not unnoticed tears chasing each other down her temples and into the pile of carpet beyond. He had hoped to keep her from knowing the truth about her father and Dan for as long as possible, if not forever. He knew that it would crush her and he couldn't seem to rid himself of the stricken look that had crossed her face as she heard the truth. Eventually she had drifted off. He'd pulled a blanket from the bed and covered her with it although she still wore her jacket and gloves. It gave him some small measure of comfort to take care of her even if she really didn't need him to.

Now she knew the lion's share of the truth. At least the important parts. He had no doubt she'd piece the rest together as they went. She was sagacious that way. She had that uncanny ability to pull information out of thin air. Red sighed, bone weary. He was worried. Not for himself but for his family—Lizzie, Laney, Dan, and little Beth—how she had reminded him of what Lizzie had probably been like at that age, all wild dark hair, big blue eyes, and a sweet disposition.

Laney stirred, bringing his attention back to the present. He turned his head to look at her as she sat next to him. She leaned against him, dropping her head onto his shoulder. They sat there in silence for a long time, both lost in thought, staring into space. It comforted him to have the warm weight of her pressed into his side. He wasn't quite alone in this. Didn't have to shoulder the weight by himself. He was both grateful and terrified by it and yet he knew he had absolutely no control over the situation.

"You joined to protect him, didn't you." Her voice was little more than a whisper and it was a statement of fact.

"Yeah," he said, his voice tight with emotion. He wondered what she was thinking, if she was even thinking straight at all. She sat, quietly leaning into him for a long while.

"Why were you coming to me in Brussels?"

"What?" The question caught him off guard.

"When I was on tour in Brussels, when Ressler was hunting you. Why were you coming to see me? It had been 18 years and it wasn't my first European tour. Surely it wasn't just curiosity and proximity."

"No."

"Then why?"

"Elizabeth," he said simply.

"What about her?"

"I was coming to ask for your help with her."

"What kind of help? She had to be…what…24-ish?"

"Yeah," he said again. "She was about to graduate and she was looking to move to New York and join the Bureau's field office there. I knew that would take her out of Sam's care altogether and put her within reach of the Cabal. You were headed back to New York and I thought to strategically place you into her life to help me keep an eye on her."

"What did you do when that plan failed?" she asked. He shifted uncomfortably. She tilted her head back and he could feel her studying his profile. "Raymond?"

"I inserted Tom Keen into her life."

"Wait. What?" she said, sitting up. "Tom Keen, her ex? Kill squad Tom Keen? Agent of Berlin Tom Keen?"

"Yeah."

"Well that seems to have worked out well," she said dryly.

"The best-laid schemes of mice and men," he quipped.

"_But little Mouse, you are not alone, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes of mice and men Go often askew, And leave us nothing but grief and pain, For promised joy! Still you are blessed, compared with me! The present only touches you: But oh! I backward cast my eye, On prospects dreary! And forward, though I cannot see, I guess and fear!_" Lane quoted.

"You're familiar with Robert Burns. I'm not surprised," he said, shaking his head. He felt certain that should they ever meet up over a game of trivia that it would be a battle to the end. "So you see why I wished to keep you clear of this disaster, little mouse? At least you could live without fear and regret."

"Had the mouse been better prepared, it could have built its home in a safer place and remained untouched altogether," she pointed out. He loved that about Laney. She always had a logical counterpoint. She held up her mittened hand. "Off, please."

He helped her pull off one mitten, then the other. He watched as she fumbled to undo the buttons of her coat. She stood and shrugged out of it, tossing it on a chair. She was beautiful in her soft cream colored shirt and tight jeans. Her hair was gorgeous when she wore it straight but he especially loved when she left the naturally soft curls to dance riotously around her shoulders. He was surprised when she straddled him, settling down onto his lap. Sometimes she approached him with a familiarity that he was unaccustomed to. Her arms went around his shoulders even as his hands settled on her hips.

"I would have helped," she said softly, looking into his eyes. It almost hurt him to look at her, her face so open, her emotions laid bare.

"Except for that whole wanting me dead thing," he teased, feeling his own face soften as he smiled at her.

"That was Ressler. I mostly just wanted to kick your ass." He couldn't help but laugh at her grin.

"Of that, I have no doubt."

"We'll make this right, Danny and I," she said, her face suddenly serious.

"You can't make this right, baby. You need to stay as uninvolved as possible. And Danny." He swallowed because it hurt him to say it. "It's going to come down to Danny or me."

"It won't. We're going to figure this out." He envied her the optimism but he knew she was wrong. He shook his head at her in awe. "What?"

"You amaze me."

"How's that?"

"Because you assimilate all of this and keep pushing forward. Anyone else would have run away screaming by now." He knew that for a fact. He'd seen it with every woman he'd ever been truly close to.

"The hand is dealt. The die is cast. Whatever metaphorical adage you want to assign to this nightmare, it is what it is," she said with a shrug.

"You're not scared?" he asked incredulously.

"Concerned? Yes. Scared? No. I'm willing to pit my wit against anyone's. Especially spoiled assholes that have had their egos stroked for far too long and bask in their own misguided glory. What they see as their strength, I see as their greatest vulnerability. We only have to manipulate the situation to suit us."

She'd pretty much just summed up his philosophy of life for the past twenty years. Maybe she was right. Maybe they could out-wit the Cabal. Or maybe they were equally foolish in their estimation. Time would tell.

"Delaney."

"Raymond."

"Thank you for being here," he said sincerely.

She cupped his cheek with her right hand and leaned forward, taking his mouth gently with hers. His heart hammered as she deepened the kiss by degrees. God, he wanted her so badly. His hands slid under her thighs as he pulled her forward so that she was flush against him. The sound of satisfaction she made was almost enough to wreck his resolve. His hands moved under her shirt and traced the curve of her slender back. She arched against him, kissing him deeply, her hand clutching the back of his neck. If she kept rubbing against him, he knew he'd be lost.

She pulled back, breaking the kiss. Her mouth was swollen, her chin and nose pink despite the fact that he was closely shaved. Her eyes were stormy as they settled on his. She bit her bottom lip, running her tongue over it like she was savoring the taste of him. He felt a punch of unadulterated lust.

"It's a good thing you steadfastly reject my advances or you'd find yourself thoroughly fucked right now," she said, her voice husky. She leaned over and nipped the sensitive spot just behind his ear, sending a shiver up his spine.

"The spot behind your ear is deliciously sensitive," she said with a smug grin, pushing herself to her feet. Damn her for turning his words back on him. He groaned and slouched back into the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. He was ten times a fool.


	29. Chapter 29

**29: Bob's Your Uncle**

The next morning was a bit rough. Lane had been riddled with nightmares and had woken up, alone and out of sorts. Ray was up and dressed in a gorgeous navy blue suit. He sat at the table reading the paper, looking nearly as bad as she felt. Despite his glassy eyed denial, she suspected he had a cold. By the time she'd bathed, struggling to wash her own hair, he had breakfast ordered up. She pulled on leather leggings and a simple A-line black silk shirt. Hair still in a towel, she sat cross legged at the table, pushing food around her plate. Ray cleared his throat, drawing her attention from a news story of a slain trooper on TV.

"Eat, Delaney," he ordered.

"I'm not hungry," she replied and she wasn't. She was anxious, out of sorts, and vaguely nauseated. "Besides, this is enough food to feed an army."

"At least eat the toast and drink your juice."

She did so woodenly, not wanting to argue. After she finished getting ready, Ray checked her finger. The bruises on her body had mostly faded to a ghastly yellow and her knuckles were considerably better. He gently manipulated her finger, bending it a bit. She didn't wince but her brow puckered.

"Hurt?" he asked.

"Not really. Just feels tight."

"Let's give it a couple days without the splint and then the stitches can come out."

"Yes, doctor," she half-heartedly teased. A corner of his mouth tugged up. Something was on his mind. "Want to tell me what has you in a mood this morning?"

"I'm in a mood?" he asked, raising a brow.

"For you? Yes."

"This is just going to be along day." He pushed to his feet but she didn't give up her ground. He looked down at her, his gaze unreadable.

"Even long days end eventually," she said, straightening his maroon tie so she had an excuse to touch him for a moment.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and breathed in her scent. Their drive to the Post Office was quiet with Lane occasionally singing under her breath to break up the monotony. Dembe met them there. He handed Ray a tan bag.

"Thank you," Ray said.

"Of course," Dembe replied. "Good morning, Delaney. You're looking better."

"I am. Thank you, Dembe."

He stopped discretely at Liz's door as Ray entered, carrying the bag. Liz was rubbing her eyes tiredly. She looked up with surprise as Ray placed the bag on her desk.

"What's this?" she asked, amused when he set a wine bottle on her desk.

"You don't remember, do you?"

"What?" Liz asked, confused.

"The grape vines. The ones you and Sam harvested." Lane couldn't see Ray's face but she could see the shock that registered on Liz's.

"Of course. I…I remember. Along the garden fence. We would pick…." Realization and emotion spread across her face. "Is this from…?"

"A bottle of wine you made with Sam when you were a child," Ray said as Liz examined the bottle in stunned silence. She looked up at him, thunderstruck, tears in her eyes. "Happy birthday, Lizzie. You've become everything Sam dreamed you would be and more. Share it with someone special. That said, it's probably undrinkable by now so I also brought you an 82 Burnello as a back up."

Liz sighed and put the bottle back on her desk.

"Thirty one," she moaned. "No offense but that's old." Lane couldn't help but snicker.

"My yogi tells me that time doesn't exist. He fully intends to live forever." Liz's brow furrowed at that bit of randomness. "And tragically, he's not the only one. Tell me. What do you know about the Longevity Initiative?"

"I haven't heard of it," Liz replied, glancing at Lane.

"It's a private company," Ray continued, "dedicated to extending human life indefinitely. Funded by none other than Roger Hobbs."

"The tech billionaire?" Liz clarified.

"Yes. He started years ago. I know because he offered me the opportunity to invest as a founding partner in the project. I passed," he said, pursing his lips, his disdain obvious.

"You know Roger Hobbs…personally?" Liz asked incredulously.

"Roger is considerably smarter than the above average bear and now? It appears he may also be as deadly. You're aware of the New York State Trooper who was gunned down last night in the line of duty?"

"The suspect is still missing but they found mutilated bodies in the back of the truck," Liz supplied.

"Not mutilated," Ray corrected. "Experimented on. The Longevity Initiative has entered the human trial phase. If they've made a break through, they need to test it."

"On innocent victims," Liz said, understanding.

"With any luck, I'll be dead wrong. Perhaps you'll have a better sense when you've spoke with Roger Hobbs."

"Wait. You expect me to go knock on his door and ask him if he knows anything about the mutilated bodies that were found?" Liz asked, an unbelieving smile playing across her lips as she glanced at Lane.

"Yes. That's exactly what I expect," Ray said seriously. "You won't rattle him but you have a solid gut instinct. You'll know if something seems off."

"And the gifts keep coming," Liz said with a sigh, pushing to her feet. "I'll let you know what we find out."

Lane turned to Ray and cocked her head.

"Aren't you just chock full of surprises today?" she asked.

"You have no idea."

"So now what?"

"Now we wait," he said simply.

Waiting consisted of Lane attempting to work while Ray paced her office and Dembe sat quietly by, watching him. Ray's constant movement was distracting and it was making her peevish. She had never seen him this unsettled and it was setting her on edge.

"Raymond," she said finally, pushing back her laptop where she was making notes.

"Yes?"

"You have _got_ to stop pacing. You're making me crazy."

"Well, pardon me. I can take this elsewhere. Wouldn't want to distract the wunderkind," he snapped. She blinked at him, a little shocked and a lot pissed.

"You'll be needing to dial that back," she said softly, unwilling to be drawn into the fight he was clearly spoiling to have.

"Or what?"

"Or nothing," she retorted. "I'm asking you not to be an ass to me because you're all agitated and floopy."

"Floopy?" he asked, vague amusement mixing with his ire.

"It's a word. Why are you so overwrought this morning?"

"Because I'm an impatient man, Laney, and I need this to work."

"Need what to work?" she asked, propping her feet on a nearby chair and narrowing her eyes at him.

"I need Roger Hobbs to reach out to me. It's imperative for the next stage of my plan," he said tiredly, moving her feet, dropping down into the chair, and putting them back in his lap.

"You're going to muss your suit," she objected.

"I have dozens," he said with a shrug.

"But I find I'm fondest of the blue ones," she said, removing her feet from his lap and scooting closer.

"Really?"

"Yes. Tell me why Hobbs is important."

"Think of him as a litmus test of sorts. He's going to test the waters for me. But in order for that to happen, he must first find himself beholden to me," Ray said almost thoughtfully, tracing the grain of the conference table.

Lane found that he oft spoke in riddles, words that were honest and made sense to him, but were confusing and misleading out of context. This was one of those times. Her brain scrambled to piece what she knew with what he was giving him.

"And how will you obligate him to you in this instance?"

"I'm a fixer, of sorts. Roger has a problem on his hands and the last thing a powerful man wants is to have his professional reputation besmirched. Lizzie and Donald will contact him with their suspicions. Depending on how accurate they are, and I expect them to be spot on, Roger will reach out to me to help him with this particular Gordian knot."

"So you swoop in, save the day, and boom—Bob's your uncle."

"He was always my favorite," Ray agreed with a tight lip smile.

"Know what?" she asked, running her hands over his knees. His raised brow was her only response. "It sounds like you have it all worked out in your head. Give it time to play out."

"Are you trying to assuage my disquietude?"

"God, yes. It makes me restive when you're like this," she said with a sigh. He took her hand silently and flipped it over, rubbing circles over the palm with his thumb. He was completely lost in his own thoughts. The phone in Dembe's pocket rang, startling them all. "I bet that's Uncle Bob now."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N Wow! Two amazing reviews in one day. It's like Christmas! You have no idea how much it makes my day to hear that someone is actually enjoying this little idea that has taken a life of its own. Thank you so much! **

**30: Playing God**

After the phone call and a quick lunch, Ray, Dembe, and Lane made their way to the Hobbs residence. It was a sizable estate, though not quite Lane's taste-too modern and cold. Impersonal. She much preferred her home to feel like a home. She doubted, however, that something that mundane occurred to Roger Hobbs. He seemed rather more interested in the status of it all. Not overtly flashy with what her mother would call his "new money," but new money all the same.

"Roger, it's good to see you," Ray said as the man dressed in black pants and a white shirt greeted him. He didn't sound particularly sincere.

"Red, it's been a while, old friend."

"Indeed. You remember my associate, Dembe?"

"I do. Dembe, welcome." Hobbs gave Dembe a dismissive nod before running his eyes thoroughly over Lane. "I don't believe we've met."

"You have not," Ray agreed, his eye twitching a bit in irritation as he put his hand possessively on the small of Lane's back. "Roger Hobbs, my companion, Bianca Huston."

"Ms. Huston, lovely to meet you," Hobbs said, taking her hand in a handshake so loose she was almost afraid he was going to try to kiss it like some Victorian fop in a novel.

"Mr. Hobbs," she said, a polite but tight smile on her mouth. This was not a man that she would be friends with. His phone rang.

"Excuse me for a moment. I must take this."

"Eyes and ears open," Ray whispered to her after pulling her into his personal space. He motioned for her to go stand with Dembe next to a godawful painting in the corner. She watched as Ray poured himself a glass of water and sat down in an uncomfortable looking arm chair.

"I'm aware of that, Julian," Hobbs was saying, pacing before a bank of windows, "which is why you need to come in."

There was a brief pause.

"I authorized you to begin preliminary trials for the purposes of second stage research... You've jeopardized the entire Longevity Initiative. Not to mention putting me and everything that I have worked for at risk. Julian, _you need to come in_."

He paced, back and forth, back and forth. Despite his pleasant, albeit firm, tone his face was agitated. He hung up the phone without further exchange and paused briefly before speaking to Ray.

"This has become a serious problem," he said, tucking his phone into the inner pocket of his black jacket and turning to Ray.

"It's not easy being God," Ray said, pursing his lips, disdain evident in his voice.

Lane found that telling. Raymond Reddington could turn on the charm when he needed to but he didn't feel the need to fake his emotions with this man. Nor did Hobbs expect him to. He certainly wasn't offended by it. There was a sort of mutual respect in that.

"You got any idea how much this guy's cost me?" Hobbs asked stiffly. "Not just his work, but the security. There's people out there who'd pay a fortune just to know his name. And steal his research away."

"What's it worth?" Ray asked.

"Hard to say," Hobbs said, his face alight with glee. "A foot in the door to human immortality? On the open market? Now I gotta get rid of him. I'm not gonna lie to ya. It hurts."

"You know my feeling," Ray said, unimpressed and unsympathetic. "Humans as a species are untrustworthy creatures. We don't deserve to live forever. What the_ hell_ were you thinking, Roger? Even to consider authorizing this Powell to conduct human trials?"

"It was necessary for the research to reach the next level," Hobbs said, matter of factly and unapologetically. "I didn't know he was gonna be so reckless."

"You had to know there was a risk innocent people would die," Ray countered.

"How many innocents died in the search for the small pox vaccine? All in the name of the advancement of science."

"This isn't about the advancement of _science_, Roger," Ray said incredulously. "This is about you actually _believing_ that _death_ is beneath you."

"No. This is what it takes. Louis Pasteur, he wasn't even a physician. The day that he injected that first small boy with the rabies vaccine, he was risking criminal prosecution. Jonas Salk injected the flu virus into men in an _insane asylum_ in Michigan. A decade later, he's being hailed as the genius who cured polio."

"I know of a doctor who agreed with you," Ray played along. "A relatively young man also fascinated by genetics. A man who didn't concern himself with morality, humanity. That was Joseph Mengele."

"I don't need you to agree with what I've already done, Red," Hobbs said, putting his hand up. "But I would like to know if you're willing to help me now."

A young, dark haired woman entered the room, interrupting the exchange. Dembe was instantly more alert. Both men turned toward her expectantly.

"Sir? There are two agents from the FBI at the front door and they're insisting on seeing you right away." That was Ray's cue to leave. He stood and started to put his scarf and overcoat back on.

"I'll be right down," Hobbs said pleasantly, dismissing her. He walked over to a side table and picked up a manila folder. He brought it back to where Ray stood. "The identity of my scientist. Everything you need to know to take care of the problem."

"If it were anyone else, I'd decline. But for you, Roger?" Ray said, putting on his hat. "I'll see what I can do." He took the folder and turned to Lane. "Darling?"

Hobbs threw an appreciative smile over his shoulder and nodded at her once as Ray led her out the back with a hand upon the small of her back. The air was brisk but she was glad to be out of that room. She shivered a bit.

"He was..." She stopped, at a loss for words.

"Wasn't he?" Ray agreed, knowing what she meant even if she couldn't verbalize it. She turned to him once they were in the car. He flipped the file open.

"What next?" she asked, expectantly.

"Next, we take you home before I go pay Dr. Powell a visit," he said, absently pursuing the file in his lap.

"Wait, what? You can't be serious," she said, her brow furrowing. He continued to ignore her. "Raymond."

"About which part, Delaney?" he asked, peevishly.

"Any of it. Getting rid of me. Helping Hobbs with his problem. I shudder to think what that might entail."

"Which is exactly why we're taking you home," he said dismissively. She reached over and snatched the file. He blinked and rolled his head toward her, glaring.

"You can't think that this man deserves to die because some sociopath with a Messiah complex deems it so."

"To be fair, Roger doesn't actually think he's God and the good doctor is fully aware that what he is doing is no longer sanctioned. You can't expect me to allow him to continue experimenting on innocent people." He spoke to her reasonably and concisely, as one would a child. It annoyed the shit out of her.

"Don't condescend to me, Raymond Reddington. This isn't your mess to clean up. You do not have to wash your hands in that man's blood. You're contemptuous about Hobbs' lack of morality and yet you're willing to sentence this doctor to death on the word of the man who created the monster? That's not acceptable!"

"What if I promise not to harm him if I can avoid it? Will that make you happy?"

"What would make me happy is if you just leave it alone altogether," she snapped.

"That's not an option."

"Whatever," she huffed, dropping the folder back into his lap.

She glared out the window, unwilling to look at him. How could he compromise himself for that monster? What could Hobbs possibly provide Ray that he didn't have the resources to get on his own?

Dembe drove them out to a secluded residential neighborhood. The house, though dilapidated, had probably been quite lovely at one time. Though they had passed a handful of houses coming in, Lane couldn't see any from the front yard. It was peaceful, the birds singing merrily in the chilled air. It smelled of pine and vaguely of burning firewood. Lane closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

"I know it galls you to do things when I ask you, but please stay inside while we're gone," Raymond said seriously, his sour disposition temporarily replaced with the genuine concern that she could read in his eyes. "Do not leave this cabin without us for any reason."

"Raym..."

"I need to know you're safe," he interrupted. "Please, Laney."

"Okay," she agreed. She studied him for a long moment.

"Thank you," he whispered, taking her face gently in his hands and brushing a butterfly kiss across her mouth. Without another word or glance, he made his way to the door.

"Raymond," she blurted a little desperately. She hated parting ways knowing they were fractious toward each other. The weariness was evident on him when he turned back toward her. She couldn't help it. She closed the space between them and threw her arms around him, stunning them both. "Hurry home."

"I will, darling. I will."


	31. Chapter 31

**31: Happy Birthday**

Elizabeth Keen was having an exceptionally shitty birthday. They'd caught an awesomely bizarre case that left her feeling unsettled. Her self-appointed champion had stolen their prime suspect right out from underneath them. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, said suspect ended up dead an hour later and their entire case went down the tubes. She was so angry with Red that she wanted to choke him out. She was unsurprised when he had asked her to step out and talk to him. Actually, she was grateful because she intended to tell him exactly what she thought.

She slid into the dark Mercedes, anger radiating off her. It was almost uncomfortably stuffy in the car and she had to force herself not to notice how haggard Red look. She wanted to focus on her anger instead. It was easier than examining her feelings about the day. She slammed the door and turned to him.

"Care to tell me what the hell happened today?" she demanded.

"I suppose I should," Red said, looking tired and recognizing her anger. She hated when she was angry and he went totally calm, refusing to fight with her. She wanted a fight. She _needed_ one.

"You stole Powell out from under us and then an hour later he ends up dead? Did you kill that man?" she asked, her voice rising with each question.

"I'm happy to discuss the day's events, but not if you insist on doing so _at this volume_," Red snapped, raising his own voice to match hers.

"You gave us this case," she said continued heatedly, hating the faint tremor of hurt, "because you wanted Powell and then you used us to flush him out."

"Yes," Red agreed, unapologetically. That deflated her a bit.

"Yes," she repeated, taking a breath and controlling herself. Her voice returned to normal. "You wanted the science."

"The science didn't work," he said softly. "Powell was falsifying his results. He was never interested in immortality but you know that."

"He wanted to get his fiancé back," Liz agreed, nodding.

"He knew it was over. So he ended it. That's the _truth_." She understood his weariness—the bone deep tiredness that showed on him and would have left her feeling concerned any other time. She was still pissed and she wasn't letting him off that easily.

"That's _half_ the truth. I don't take anything you say at face value," she said conspiratorially, knowing the jibe would land. Judging by his reaction, she was correct.

"Fair enough," he said, evenly. "My interest in Powell's research was only half the picture. This was always about Roger Hobbs. I used the FBI to create a problem for Roger. I needed the man to be in my debt and now he is."

"Roger Hobbs is a murderer," Liz said, her tone just as reasonable as his. "He may not have conducted those experiments but according to the_ law_? He's just as guilty. And now without Powell, we can't prove it."

"Don't be so quick to make an enemy of Roger Hobbs," Red warned, his face inscrutable. "You don't see it yet, Lizzie, but a dark cloud is approaching. And when it arrives, Roger Hobbs will be a very good friend at exactly the moment he needs to be."

"That may be the case," she said quietly, "but I'm tired of being your pawn. You ruined this case and you ruined this day."

"Lizzie," he snapped but it was too late.

She was already out of the car and slamming the door. She went back up to her office and flung herself into her chair. She'd lied to Ressler earlier when he'd asked how she was celebrating her birthday. There would be no Wing Yee tonight but how could she explain to him that the team was the closest thing to friends she had any more? It was just pathetic. She couldn't bring herself to be around her old friends because they wanted to talk about Tom. It's not like she could confide in anyone and she just wasn't up for making up stories and listening to well-meaning advice tonight. She was lost in thought when Ressler walked in, shirt sleeves rolled up, carrying a box.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, what are you still doing here?" she asked in surprise.

"Could ask you the same thing," he replied, placing the box on his desk. "What happened to dinner?"

"I just didn't feel like going out," she said a little sadly.

It was true and she was too tired to hide her emotions from him tonight. He frowned a bit and got that look he got when he was studying her too closely. She suspected he knew her a lot better than he let on but she was grateful that he always maintained that distance and gave her the opportunity to confide in him or keep her thoughts private. He was the only man in her life that afforded her that and she found that she was truly grateful.

"What's going on, Keen?" he asked, perching on the edge of his desk and giving her that opportunity now.

Should she answer him truthfully? Was it crossing a line? Revealing too much of herself?

"You said earlier that I had so much to celebrate," she began, deciding to go for honest.

She needed to put it out there and get it off her chest. He nodded slightly, not saying a word. Just him being there, willing to listen without prying-it was exactly what she needed.

"You know that isn't true. I mean, I thought by the time I was in my thirties, I'd have something to show for it." She could feel the hot flood of tears in her throat but refused to give in to them. That would be the last mortifyingly awful thing she needed to go wrong tonight. "I would at least be a prestigious profiler. I mean, I was the top of my class. I thought I'd have a loving relationship with someone? Maybe we would be raising a family together."

The tears rose to the surface and choked out the rest of her commentary. Ressler looked down, unable to watch her struggle. Great. She was making him uncomfortable. When he looked back up, though, his face was sympathetic, not judgmental.

"At least you got a dog," he quipped, trying to make her smile. "That's one up on me."

"I don't know who I am," she said, honestly. "I don't know if this is my birthday. I don't even know my own name. No, I know who I am. I am the puppet of some high functioning sociopath. I don't even know what I'm doing here."

"What you're doing here," Ressler said, refusing to let her drown in her pit of despair. "Is celebrating your birthday. With me."

She watched as he stood and jauntily flipped the lid off the box. The smell of Chinese food filled the air and she felt her brow furrow in confusion. What had he done? He pulled out two white to-go cartons.

"What did you...?" she asked with a laugh that she didn't think she was capable of tonight.

"See, I called the restaurant. I thought I'd send you and your friends a bottle of wine. Turns out there wasn't a reservation. So. I figured since you weren't going to Wing Yee, I was bringing Wing Yee to you."

He lined the cartons up on her desk and she just stared at him, a smile hovering over her lips. The fact that he wanted to send her a bottle of wine in and of itself was incredibly sweet. But this? This was over the top. He could have let the day pass without acknowledging her lie. He could have gone home and enjoyed his evening. Instead, he'd gone and gotten her favorite food and brought it back to their office so she didn't spend the evening alone. She couldn't help it. She loved him just a little for that.

She blinked back tears, her fingers covering her mouth. He looked into her eyes and gave her a small, knowing smile, his dimple flashing. As he continued to unload the box, she remembered Red's earlier gift. The wine. _Share it with someone special_, he'd said. On impulse, she pulled it out. She couldn't think of anyone in her life more worthy of it than Donald Ressler.

"Oh, look at you," he teased when she turned around with the bottle in hand. His smile made her smile in return.

"I've been saving this for a special occasion," she said softly. He gave her another one of those dimple flashing half smiles and pulled out two cups.

"Well," he returned just as softly, his left hand going to his tie to hold it in place as he leaned across her desk. His face went serious as he looked directly into her eyes. "I'm honored."

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, she held his gaze, a small smile on her lips. She started to peel the red wax seal, breaking the intimate moment. What had that been about? Things had been business as usual since they'd shared the couch at her new apartment. He hadn't seemed to even notice the intimacy of them waking up together, hand in hand. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she'd misread him. Maybe he was so willing to let her have control of her life that he was playing his cards close to the chest.

"I made this wine with my dad when I was a little girl," she warned. "It may taste like vinegar."

"Well, if you kill us, at least we go together. I'm good with that," he said, laughing and pushing on the lip of the bottle so she poured a little more. She couldn't help laughing in return. He held up his cup.

"Cheers."

"Cheers," she repeated with a smile.

Ress grabbed a carton of rice and shoveled some over his moo shu pork before handing it to her so she could do the same with her Szechwan chicken. How had he known her favorite? She mixed them up and then took a heaping bite, rolling her eyes with pleasure.

"Don't even think about eating all that," Ress teased. "Sharing is for caring."

"And that applies to us how?" she asked, raising a brow, feeling her bad mood ease with his teasing.

"Cuz we're partners. Duh. There are few bonds on earth stronger than that."

"Well, if I have to be partners with someone, I'm pretty lucky to be stuck with you," she said honestly.

"Of course you are," he said, looking at her like she was crazy. "I'm amazing."

"Can't argue that," she said with a laugh, handing him her box and taking his.

"Hey," he protested.

"Sharing is for caring," she reminded him with a grin.


	32. Chapter 32

**32: All Along**

The encounter with Lizzie left Red in a sour mood. He hated to see her disappointment and pain. He hated that he'd caused it, and on her birthday no less. Unfortunately, it couldn't be avoided. He hoped Laney was right. He hoped someday that Lizzie would understand why he'd done all the things he'd done and forgive him for it. Quietly, he flipped through pictures as Dembe drove him home. Sam had always been good about sending him pictures of her life so that he could be a part of it.

He hated that he'd missed all those birthdays and Christmases, the bedtime kisses and the scraped knees. He'd been cheated out of the little girl giggles and the struggles of growing up. It broke his heart. He turned his attention out the window, the lump in his throat making it hard to swallow. How had he gotten here? How had his life gone so utterly wrong? How was his life so devoid of all the things that mattered? They should be celebrating as a family with gifts and laughter and frivolity. Instead, he sat alone in a car, driving away from the only thing that had ever mattered to him, knowing that he was leaving her hurting.

He wanted to see Laney. Wanted to put his arms around her and just let her hold him until the morning. What had she done all day? Would she be mad at him too? He was relieved when Dembe pulled down the long driveway to the house they'd call theirs for a couple days. He could hear the music before he even got up to the porch. It was slow and soulful. Why on earth she needed it that loud, he didn't know. She'd always listened to it that way. He opened the door and stopped dead. He was aware that Dembe had backed out and shut the door.

Lane had pushed all the furniture and rugs against the wall, leaving the large wooden floor bare. She wore tight yellow dance shorts and some kind of shirt that draped in the front and left her back bared. The bra she wore was impossibly strappy and incredibly appealing. Her hair was in a long, sleek tail down her back. Her eyes were shut, her face expressive. He lowered himself onto the stairs wordlessly and watched as she moved with the music.

He didn't know if her movements were choreographed but he suspected not. Red found himself completely enamored by the shapes and lines her body made as she moved. How turns looked when her legs were held differently. How some moves were long and graceful and others were beautiful in their angularity.

Her back and neck gleamed in the dim firelight, telling him she'd been at this for a while. He knew she hadn't danced in weeks and it was probably a little like not breathing for her. Dance was a part of her identity. The song changed and he immediately recognized it. Like the singer sang so passionately, Laney put a spell on him, leaving him mesmerized. Her moves were different this time. Raw and hard, angular and passionate. Her eyes were open now but she didn't stop, despite having to know he was there. He marveled as she leaped out of a turn. She was still so youthful. So strong and graceful. She was breathing hard when the song ended and the next began. She grabbed a bottle of water and drank deeply.

"Go away, Ray," she said, recapping her water. She wiped her neck with a towel and tossed it back on the mantle.

"I can't," he said, his voice rough. "I can't take my eyes off of you."

She took a couple slow, cat-like steps toward him before closing her eyes and losing herself again. As much as it scared him and he wanted to deny himself, he wanted her. He wanted that passion focused on him, that body sweaty and writhing against him. He wanted to see how she moved against him, under him, above him, with him. He wanted to feel every long, graceful inch of her against him. She stopped in front of him, eyes closed, tall and willow thin.

Her posture relaxed by degrees as she came back and her eyes opened slowly. What he saw there took his breath away. Her gray eyes were hot and stormy. Her lips were slightly parted. Her chest rose and fell, glistening. He stood, entranced. He could see the tendrils of hair sticking to her damp neck and shoulders.

"Damn you. God damn you to hell," he growled, closing the space between them, his mouth crashing into hers. Her kisses were hot, sure, and demanding. Greedy.

Lust fired through him as he pulled her roughly against him. He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and pulled her head back. She made a sound, not quite a moan but not an objection. His tongue traced the tendon down her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat and wanting more. Wanting all.

He released her hair and yanked the shirt over her head. Her body was damp and his hands glided down her petite form. She was so tall and strong-willed; sometimes he forgot she was so slight.

He was no stranger to women or the art of lovemaking. In fact, he considered himself quite the expert. Right now, however, he had no finesse. No control. He wanted nearer. He wanted inside of her. He wanted it more than his next breath. His hands dipped inside her shorts and cupped that perfect ass that had been driving him to distraction since that first day. She gasped against his mouth, her body hypersensitive to his touch.

She tugged his jacket off his shoulders. She stepped back and he held his breath. He didn't know what he'd do if she threw the brakes on now. It would physically kill him. She stood there, perfect and lithe, eyes hot, lips swollen. Her eyes raked over him hungrily. Their eyes held for a long moment and he read all the things she wasn't saying there.

She wanted him. _Needed_ him. Needed him to _want_ her. Not just now but for however long. She needed him to live with her in this moment and give in to the madness. She needed him to drown in this with her and oh God, he was. He really was. Her eyes filled with sadness and love as she held her hand out.

There was no going back. She was offering herself and everything she was. If he rejected her, she was done. And that was exactly what she expected him to do. It's what he should do. He should walk away now while he still had a chance, because if he didn't do it now, he wasn't sure he could later on. And yet he watched as his hand reached out and took hers. Watched as her eyes caught fire and felt that fire spread to his blood. She led him up the stairs and to their room.

She turned to him and slid her fingers inside the waist of his pants, tugging him closer. She was no shy, submissive woman and it heated his blood even more as she teased him by not quite touching her mouth to his. She undid the buttons of his vest and tugged it off. Their hands got tangled in it behind his back and a satisfied grin ghosted her mouth before she set her mouth to his neck.

"God," he breathed.

She worked her way up his throat to his chin, stopping just short of his mouth. When he tried to capture hers, she pulled just out of reach. Half amused, half frustrated, he let her pull his shirt free from his pants. It came off quickly before her hands went to his belt. His own hands stopped her. He had wants too and right now, they were screaming to be satisfied.

"Off," he demanded, flicking his gaze to her dance clothes as he slowly undid his trousers, his gaze hooded.

She pulled the sports bra over her head, shimmying a little to get the tight material off her damp body. It was a beautiful thing. He stepped out of his pants, taking his socks with them. Her breasts were small but utterly appealing. He swallowed hard as she worked the shorts off.

She stood before him naked. He liked his women curvy, with a little flesh on them. Soft. He liked to feel and movement of those curves. Lane was the complete opposite. She was lean, her body taut. Her curves were well-honed muscle.

He stepped close to her, seeing the slightest hesitation in her eyes. He ran a blunt tipped finger over her lip and down her throat. It circled her collar bone and her eyes closed, her head dropping back, lips parted. It continued its journey down the valley between her breasts to the deep groove that ran the length of her abdomen. He watched as her nipples pearled, goosebumps dancing along the path his finger drew. His finger cut across her waist and followed along behind her, he moving with it, circling her. She could have been a statue, the way her muscles stood out in her alabaster skin. The two gorgeous dimples at the base of her spine begged for his mouth. He gave into the urge and gently put his mouth to one. She gasped and arched.

He explored one and then the other. Her hands clawed at his hands on her hips. He kissed his way up the curve of her spine, using his teeth on the curve of her shoulder. She gasped, arching back into him again, grabbing his hips and pressing against him. He ran his nails lightly down the slight curve of her taut stomach. She moaned when his fingers slid into her smooth, hot folds. God, he wanted to bury himself into her right then and there. Just pull down his boxers, bend her over, and take everything she wanted to give him.

Panting a little, he spun her and crushed her to him, his mouth slanting hotly over hers. Her arms wound around his neck and he lifted her with little effort, those long, long legs wrapping around him. He lowered her to the bed and yanked off his undershirt and boxers.

She took his hand and pulled him down on top of her. With no barriers between them, he could barely think straight. He wanted in equal shares to explore her and take her. His hand ran up her waist to cup her breast. When he would have lowered his mouth to it, Laney caught his face.

"No," she whispered. "We can take care of the niceties later. I need you inside me, Raymond. Right now."

And just like that, he was a goner. He reached between them and guided himself into her. His breath escaped him in a rush as she enveloped him, her legs coming up and around him. When she would have wrapped her arms around him too, he captured her hands with his, pining them down. His teeth scraped against her neck as he thrust for the first time. She gave a gasping moan and then found his mouth with hers.

He moved in earnest then, lost in the sensation of her, lost in her kisses. Lost in those deep, deep eyes that spoke words they didn't dare say aloud. Her legs fell from his waist as she dug her heels into the mattress. She began to move with him, doing something with her inner muscles that was driving him mad.

"Fuck, Laney. _Stop that_," he breathed.

"_God_," she managed as he thrust into her again and again. She was stealing every ounce of his control as she pushed up into him, rubbing herself against him before releasing him only to do it all again. He gasped against her mouth. He knew she was close and he said a thousand thanks because he didn't think he could stand it much longer.

"Look at me. Delaney, _look at me_."

When her eyes opened, he changed the angle of his thrust. She cried out. He began to thrust with purpose now as she writhed under him. He felt her explode beneath him, her body shaking with the force and taking him with her. He cried out, pistoning into her as he came. With a final, shuddering thrust, his forehead fell to hers, their hands in a white knuckled grip on each other.

"Jesus God," she managed after long moments had passed.

"Something like that," he chuckled, rolling off her and on to his back. He closed his eyes trying to control his breathing. "That was..."

"Something we should have been doing all along?" she quipped.

"Probably," he agreed. She reached down and took his hand as they stared up at the ceiling.


	33. Chapter 33

**33: Two Right Things**

Lane's heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. Had that really just happened? Ray's hand cradled hers, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against hers. She wanted to overthink this. She wanted to obsess about what he might be thinking about her. She wasn't his type. She'd had far fewer partners than he. What was it about this man that made her feel like an 18 year old virgin?

_Live in the moment, Lane_, she ordered herself. Who knew how long she would get to call him hers? She wasn't going to waste it being neurotic and insecure. That wasn't in her nature and she wasn't going to give in to it today. His stomach growled loudly, drawing her attention away from herself. She turned toward him amused.

"Hungry?"

"Didn't have dinner."

"Wait," she said, releasing his hand and rolling over into him, propping herself on her elbows. His arm curved around her, his nails running lightly over her bare back, a ghost of a smile on his mouth. "After all the crap you give me, you missed a meal?"

"Long day," he replied, tucking her hair, which had come loose at some point, behind her ear. "Then someone decided to accost and seduce me when I walked in the door. It's a small miracle I had the strength to keep up."

"_I_ seduced _you_? I'm pretty sure I was minding my own business," she retorted, brow raised with amusement.

"You should mind your own business with more clothes on. I'm thinking like full on gunny sack."

"You're ridiculous," she said with a laugh, dropping a kiss on his chest.

"And you're beautiful," he said earnestly, pulling her to him for a sweet kiss that made her head spin a little.

She felt more than a little vulnerable when the kiss ended. Ray's face was filled with naked emotion that she suspected was mirrored on hers. Neither said the things they were thinking. They knew, deep inside, that this was fleeting and neither cared to examine that heartbreaking truth.

"You're in luck," she said, gently breaking through the melancholia. "I found a grocery store that delivers so I made dinner. I can heat it up if you're not offended by my leftovers."

"I'm just sorry I missed it while it was fresh."

She moved to crawl over him but he caught her by the waist, holding her in place as she hovered above him. Her hair fell around them, her face inches from his. Her hands went to his face and she leaned down and kissed him gently, thoroughly. She was gratified to see the dazed look on his face when she broke the kiss.

"That's a good way to ensure you never leave this bed again," he said hoarsely.

"Hmmm," she replied, biting her lip a bit, tasting him there. "Promises, promises."

His stomach rumbled again loudly, making them both laugh.

"Make me some food, woman," he said, smacking her butt. She squealed and slid off him.

"Rude," she said with a laugh, grabbing his shirt off the floor. She buttoned it up, singing to herself. Her hands stilled, catching the look on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," he said with hooded eyes, head propped on his arms as she stepped into underwear. She wiggled them up before moving back to him.

"That isn't a nothing look," she murmured, leaning over.

"No, it's not," he agreed, his hand running up the back of her thigh.

"That's a good way to ensure you never leave this bed again," she mocked with a purr, nipping at the curve of his jaw.

"Promises, promises." When he would have pulled her down on top of him, she pushed away.

"Hands off," she ordered with mock severity. "Food first. I'd hate for you to have to struggle to keep…," her eyes dropped to the sheet covering his waist and then back to his face with a sly grin, "_up_."

"I don't think it'll be an issue, darling."

She tossed him a grin over her shoulder as she left the room. She turned the music down to a volume that wouldn't make their ears bleed and busied herself in the kitchen, singing as she went. She heated up the pesto stuffed chicken and sautéed asparagus that she'd made for herself and threw together a simple salad. She was making quick work of slicing a cucumber when she felt his arms wind around her from behind.

"This is very domestic," he said softly, kissing her temple as she leaned her head back against his shoulder.

"I have my moments," she said, tipping her head back for a chaste kiss which he gladly granted her. "Will you poor wine?"

"Clos des Fées," he said, looking at the label. He shot her a dry look. "Not bad for a woman who doesn't like white wine."

"I believe I said I _prefer_ red, which is true. White is generally too sweet. That, however, is amazing with the chicken, if I do say so myself."

He poured two glasses of wine while she placed his plate and salad on the table. She dumped the rest of the cucumbers and some grapes into a bowl for herself. She sat and he placed her glass in front of her.

"This smells amazing," he said.

"It's no gourmet meal but it's not bad for a quick, easy dinner," she said with a shrug, biting into a disc of cucumber.

"Are you kidding? This is delicious," he said around his mouthful of food.

"Damn straight," she teased, popping a grape in her mouth and winking at him.

He just shook his head at her. She kept the conversation light while he ate but she could see that his mood was still marginal at best. When he finished, she cleared off their plates and let him enjoy the rest of his wine. She sat back down at the table when she was done and propped her bare feet in his lap.

"Ready to tell me about it?" she asked quietly, head tilted a bit to the side. He ran a hand absently over her calf, swirling what wine was left in his glass.

"Who says there's anything to tell?"

"You just had amazing sex and you still look like someone killed your dog."

"Maybe it just wasn't that good," he quipped. She just smiled indulgently at him.

"We both know that's a lie."

"Yes, it is," he agreed, dropping the pretense.

He drained his glass and set it aside before reaching forward and tugging her hands. She stood and let him pull her close. He situated her on his lap so that she straddled him and pulled her into a tight hug. She was content to let him hold her until he was ready to talk.

"It was a really shitty day," he said finally. She leaned back in his arms so she could see his face.

"What happened?"

"Well, let's see. First, Powell admitted to falsifying his results. Turns out he was really doing research to attempt to reverse damage to his fiancé's brain after he nearly killed her in an accident. Then, he shoots himself. Right in front of us. Just pulls a gun out of desk drawer without warning and shoots himself."

"Oh my God, Ray."

"_Then_, Lizzie lambastes me for basically ruining her life. The _only _thingthat went right to day is that Roger Hobbs now owes me a personal favor, which I intend to cash in on soon."

"The only thing?" she clarified with a teasing grin. He smirked at her a bit.

"Okay, _two_ things went right," he amended. Her smile turned sympathetic again.

"I'm sorry about Doctor Powell. That had to be rough." He shrugged a shoulder.

"Not a pleasant surprise but I understand why he did what he did. Facing life in prison, responsible for his fiancé's loss of quality of life and unable to push forward any more. What did he have left, really?"

"It's still not something you should have witnessed."

"After a while, the dead haunt you far less than the living."

"Elizabeth," she said.

"She was so angry at me. She yelled at me. I yelled back. I ruined her birthday, Laney, and that was the last thing I wanted to do."

"Raymond, look at me," she demanded quietly. When he did, she could see the heartbreak on his face. "Liz is going through a horribly rough time. Her life is in turmoil. Everything she's known has been torn asunder this past year and a half."

"Not helpful, babe," he said dryly.

"Let me finish," she demanded lightly. "Children get mad at their parents all the time. They yell and scream and say things they don't mean. Even adult children. But do you know why? Because they have the medium in which to do that comfortably. Mom and Dad are always going to love you at the end of the day. Yes? So while this relationship may not be defined, she's still reacting to you in a way that says that she believes, on some level, that you will always be there for her. Take that for what it's worth."

"It felt more like she just didn't give a damn anymore."

"Sweetheart, anyone can be in your company for two minutes and see what you mean to each other. She's scared. She's angry. She's hurt. And all of that is okay. She just has to work through that. All you can do is show her you're not going to leave her because that's the one thing she expects you to do. It's the one thing she's good at dealing with. It's the one thing she knows how to handle. Give her the opportunity to figure out how to handle someone caring about her enough to stay and be patient with her while she figures it out."

"How do you do that?" he asked, his head dropping back for a moment before he refocused on her.

"Do what?"

"You always know the right thing to say to set me at ease. You're probably the only one who can do that."

"I'm probably the only one who really knows _you_. And Elizabeth? She's like you in so many ways. I just _get_ her. I think it's easier to see the whole picture from my vantage point."

She took his face in her hands and smiled into his eyes before placing a kiss on his forehead. He sighed, closing his eyes. She let her hands drop to his waist, playing with the hem of his shirt.

"Delaney," he said quietly.

Feeling too vulnerable to tease him suddenly, she didn't say anything. He tilted her chin up with a finger. He searched her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ears before cupping her face in his hands.

"Thank you for being here. I don't…I don't know…," his voice broke as her own eyes misted. "I couldn't do this without you."


	34. Chapter 34

**34: Niceties**

Ray, feeling more at peace with the day, leaned forward and captured Lane's mouth with his. It was sweet and passionate and a little desperate, bespeaking all of the emotions they both struggled not to voice. Hands moving to her hips, he dragged her flush against him before they moved under the shirt to her bare back. His hands were warm and strong. Sure without being demanding. He broke the kiss before it became carnal. She slid off his lap wordlessly and offered her hand.

"Let me turn off the music," she said, trying to disentangle her hand when they reached the living room.

"Not just yet," he said, pulling her into his arms. He began to sway them to the music and she settled her other hand on his shoulder.

"Are we really dancing in the living room in our pajamas right now?" she asked with a tiny grin.

"_Technically_, I'm the only one in pajamas. You sticky-fingered my shirt."

"It looks better on me," she said with a shrug.

"No doubt about that," he replied, pulling her body against his and tucking their clasped hands over his heart. "It's not the first time we've danced together. It's not even the first time we've danced in our pajamas."

"No, it's not."

"When was the last time we did this? Besides the last pajama party, I mean. State dinner?"

"No, I stopped attending those when I was fourteen. It was at your wedding."

"Ah yes. The happiest day of my life," he quipped somewhat sarcastically.

"And the worst of mine. I hated that woman with a passion."

"You still haven't told me why. Or what happened when I left."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Ray," she said, focusing her eyes over his shoulder.

"It matters to me, Laney. Please talk to me."

"Carla and I never got along. You know that. And I probably carry the burden for that because I was a blinded by jealousy."

"Delaney Ryker, don't lie to me," he demanded. They were barely moving now.

"None of those things are lies," she said, her eyes flicking up to his and then back down to where their hands were clasped against his heart.

"Lying by omission is still a lie. Didn't you tell me that?"

"That was different."

"How so?"

"Because it applied to you," she said sheepishly. His hand tightened on her back and her eyes swept up to meet his.

"Tell me what happened," he said quietly, seriously.

"When you moved back to Virginia, it was made very clear to me that it was in my best interest to stay away from you."

"Why? You were all of what? Sixteen?"

"I was starting senior year, so seventeen."

"Why would Carla feel the need to do that? She never said anything to me," he asked, disbelieving.

"See, this is why I didn't come to you then. I don't want to talk about this," Lane said, trying to pull away.

"Lan…."

"No, Raymond. She will always be the girl you thought she was in your head. You have _always_ put her on a pedestal. That's not who she was. And by sitting here telling you about her, it just makes _me_ look like some whiney, pathetic kid who was out to get her. I am sick to _death_ of being cast in that light."

"Honey, I'm not trying to invalidate your feelings. I'm just saying you were like a kid sister to me and she was my _wife_. She had no reason to feel threatened by you. I think maybe you were just misjudging her."

"Your _wife_ was barely six years older than me and she was a fucking pit viper. Remember when Jenny and I danced Swan Lake for my senior recital?"

"Of course, you danced injured that night."

"And how do you think I got that way?"

"You had a stress fracture or something, right?"

"My foot was broken because your poor, misjudged _wife_ broke it back stage."

"That's ridiculous," Ray cried, affronted. Lane pulled back stiffly. She walked over and flipped the music off. "Laney…._Delaney_."

Lane didn't stop at his frustrated tone. Anger flushing her cheeks and ears, she managed to go up the stairs without pounding or yelling. How could he _possibly_ think she'd make something like that up? Yes, Carla had been his wife, but did he really think that at 23, she had been above terrorizing a 17 year old girl with a crush on her husband? Lane _knew_ she should have just kept her mouth shut. He was on her heels by the time she entered their room.

"Don't walk away from me," he said brusquely, grabbing her arm and swinging her around. Snapping, she shoved him back.

"I told you not to put your hands on me like that again," she yelled. He blinked at her outburst.

"What in the _hell_ has gotten into you?" he asked, flabbergasted. She knew he'd never seen her lose her cool like this and it was exactly what she was doing. It was like an out of control freight train with no chance of stopping.

"Your perfect little angel showed up in my dressing room when she was supposed to be dressing Jenny. She called me a whore, among other things, and told me she'd already warned me to stay away from you. She _slapped_ me and then she stomped my foot as hard as she could a couple times before she pushed me down. I can still remember her words when she laughed at me as I sat on the floor crying. You can't even begin to imagine the pain of dancing pointe with a broken foot. If I'd known it was the last time I'd ever dance pointe on stage, I would have danced all night. Because that pain? That pain was _nothing_ compared to losing the position I had waiting for me at the Joffrey. And it was _nothing_ compared to keeping silent while she played out the role of perfect little wife for you." The tears she so hated shedding were streaking hotly down her face as she yelled at him, her self-control gone.

"Delaney," he breathed, moving toward her.

"Don't touch me. Don't you _dare_ touch me."

"Okay," he huffed, holding up his hands in surrender. "But, Delaney, are you _sure_? Maybe it was an accident, a misunderstanding of some sort."

She looked at him for a long, long moment, hurt and anger radiating from her.

"What do I have to gain from a lie at this point? Have I _ever_ given you a reason to distrust me? Have I ever been given to melodrama?"

"No, but…."

"But what? Do you know how she got into protective custody? Not because she was 'scared' of you. You know she wasn't and you know that's not how witness protection works. She agreed to turn State's witness if ever they located you and brought you back. She made a fucking deal to sell you out and you _still_ have the _audacity_ to defend her to _me_."

"I just don't think you know the whole story."

"I know the _entire_ goddamn story! I've heard the interview tapes. I heard her tell them that we started sleeping together when I moved to New York and that the affair continued until you left. I heard her name me as an accessory. I heard her paint me as some sort of Lolita who led her precious husband down the path of destruction. She told my _parents_ that we were having an affair and my mother believed her! Do you know what that did to her? To our relationship? Because struggling with what was happening to you wasn't enough to face while fighting terminal cancer. _She put that on my dying mother_."

"Stop," Ray begged softly, pale.

"She did everything in her power to destroy me, Raymond," she sobbed, arms wrapping around herself, trying to hold herself together. "She took away everything I loved—ballet. My mother. _You_. I _never_ stepped out of line and you wouldn't have either but she systematically destroyed me all the same. Because I loved you."

Ray closed the space between them, pulling her into his arms. She struggled for a moment but he refused to be put off. He wrapped her firmly against him and held her, stroking her hair and whispering nonsensical words of comfort.

"Baby, please don't cry," he said, cupping her face, brushing at her wet cheeks with his thumbs. His own eyes were misty. "I swear to you that I didn't know her dislike for you ran that deeply. If I'd know, I would have…."

"You would have what? She was your wife."

"But you're my Delaney," he whispered with a sad smile. "There are two people in my life I'd sacrifice everything for. You're one of them."

He pressed butterfly kisses to her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. She allowed herself to find a small measure of comfort in his actions.

"I'm sorry," he murmured over and over.

"This has been a really shitty day," she muttered, sniffling.

"Not all of it was shitty," Ray quipped, trying to lighten the mood. She huffed a laugh.

"You're right. Parts of it were okay."

"Exceptional even?"

"Meh. I'd recommend you to a friend," she teased. He belly laughed at that before planting a kiss on her smiling mouth.

"I adore you," he said. She leaned back in his arms and narrowed her eyes.

"Raymond Reddington. Are you trying to charm me?"

"That depends. Is it working?" he asked with a measuring look. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

"Do you think my affections are so easily bought with a pretty line and a handsome face?"

"You think I'm handsome, huh? That has to be a good sign," he chuckled.

"Hmm," was all she said, giving him a bored look. He ran his nails down her bare legs and then rubbed his palms back up, pulling her flush against him.

"Delaney?"

"Raymond?"

"I believe it's time for the niceties, darling."


	35. Chapter 35

**35: Scars**

Lane awoke the next morning with Ray mostly sprawled on top of her, his head tucked under her chin. While he was only a couple inches taller than she and not nearly as broad as he'd been during his Navy years, it was still sort of like having a giant puppy who thought he was a lap dog reclining on her. Not that she really minded. A content smile spread broadly across her mouth.

Sex with Raymond Reddington had been everything she'd dreamt it would be and more. She was boneless and content, albeit a little sore, but thoroughly and irrevocably his. She would never have to question how he felt about her or if he found her attractive. Though only fleeting concerns, they'd been concerns all the same. She was vain enough to be wanted madly and her fears and vanity had been assuaged. She dragged her nails lightly over his scalp, running them softly over his shorn hair. His arms tightened around her a bit as he eased into consciousness. She felt his smile against her skin.

"You better not be drooling on me in your sleep," she murmured huskily.

"I drool on you awake. It only seems fair I do it asleep too," he teased.

She squealed as he pulled her down and more fully underneath him so he could plant a very thorough good morning kiss on her. Her hand traced down his neck to his shoulder before he caught it and pinned it above her head. She tugged on it a bit but his hold was unbreakable.

"Ray," she objected against his mouth.

He attempted to redirect her attention but she wouldn't be put off.

"Stop. Please," she whispered and he did immediately, biting the inside of his lip. She looked deeply into his eyes, her own brow furrowing a bit. "Why won't you let me touch you?"

He flopped over onto his back, the spell broken, rubbing a hand over his face. She rolled with him, refusing to let him avoid her question. She ran her finger tips over his chest, giving him a moment and working up her own courage.

"Do they hurt? Is that why?"

"No." The word rumbled out of him.

"Then why won't you let me touch you?"

"They're grotesque, Delaney."

"They're beautiful, Raymond."

With a derisive snort, he unseated her and pushed out of bed, walking to the window. She climbed out right after him, unwilling to let him put this barrier between them.

"Please don't leave me like this," she begged.

Her hand reached for his even as her eyes took in the massive scarring on his back and arms in the early morning light. He stopped, standing absolutely still; his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw working as he tried to maintain control. She refused to let the tears she felt rising in her throat fill her eyes. She knew he'd reject those. Instead, she laced her fingers with his. He grasped them like a lifeline, unmoving. She gently pressed a kiss to the scars on his left arm. Then his left shoulder blade. She let go of his hands and ran hers up his chest, kissing his smooth shoulder.

"Delaney," he managed, his voice rough with emotion. She ignored him and pressed kisses to the scars on his back.

"Everything about you is beautiful," she whispered.

He spun, pushing her into the wall, raw emotion on his face as his mouth descended on hers in an all-consuming, carnal kiss. He lifted her, her legs wrapping around him. He slipped easily inside her and they both gasped.

"Baby, I don't want to hur…," he started. She silenced him with her mouth, moving for the both of them and ending any further discussion. This time he didn't prevent her hands from clutching him closer as they came apart in each other's arms.

X X X

Ray lay on his side, arm tucked under his head, drawing soft circles on Laney's back as she slept on her stomach bonelessly beside him. There was something satisfying in the sight of her pale body sprawled out, relaxed and utterly spent. Had he known it would be like _this_—feel like _this_—he would have seduced her that first day and never let her out of bed. There was no question that the sweet, gorgeous, passionate little blonde next to him held his heart in a way no other woman had. She knew everything about him and still found redeeming qualities in the monster he'd become. He didn't know how she did it but it awed and humbled him.

"You're staring," she mumbled.

"How can you tell? Your eyes are closed."

"Because I can _feel_ it." She lifted his arm and scooted underneath it, burrowing into him like a missing piece. "It's freezing."

"Really? I'm quite comfortable," he teased, pulling the blankets over them.

"That's because you're an oven."

"You're welcome," he quipped. He jumped when she poked him in the belly. "Easy, killer."

"You're sassy this morning. How can you possibly have this much energy?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I could sleep just like this for the next twelve hours."

"Wore you out, did I?" she asked amused.

"Something like that." He ran his fingers up and down her spine. He thought she'd fallen asleep again when her voice broke through the silence.

"Raymond?"

"Delaney?"

"I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I'm so happy to have this moment with you. It's all worth it for this."

Her voice was small but so sincere that it almost brought tears to his eyes. He had to bite his tongue to hold back the words that wanted to flood out of him. It wouldn't do them any good now. It would only serve to make it harder for them to part ways when the time came. She knew he cared. He'd shown her over and over again in the only way he could. It would have to be enough.

X X X

"Nice of you to show up today," Liz said sarcastically when Red, Lane, and Dembe strolled in sometime after lunch.

"Some things came up," Red said distractedly, his eyes raking hungrily over Lane in her little black dress as she sauntered off toward her office. The knowing smile she tossed over her shoulder at him was nothing short of smug.

Ress burst into laughter at the look on Liz's face as Ray trailed after Lane. She wondered if she looked as grossed out as she felt. She cut her eyes to Ress's amused blue ones.

"It's a little like the first time you realize your parents have sex, huh?"

"Oh Jesus, Ress. You didn't have to give voice to it," Liz complained, shuddering dramatically.

"Hey, man. Lane is smokin' hot. If the old man's still got it, good on him. At least someone's getting laid around here."

"Please, stop. I'm begging you," Liz moaned.

"Don't be such a prude, Keen. You're taking it too hard."

"Are you going to do that thing where everything becomes an innuendo?" she asked witheringly, eyes narrowed at his gleeful expression.

"It's no fun if you call me on it."

"Well, thank you, Jesus."

"That's what she said."

"Oh God…."

"Now you're making this too easy," he smirked.

"Ress, for the love of all things holy."

"Uh huh."

"I hate you so much."


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Beginning to return to the show storyline. It's not absolute canon for obvious reasons but it'll follow as closely as I can manage. I won't be including the Tom/Liz romantic bits though cuz Keenler. **** Thank you for the follows/favorites/reviews that continue to trickle in. I appreciate you taking a risk on Lane and Red and I'm glad you're still on the journey with us!**

**36: Power Play**

It had been an exceptionally long day. When Liz got home, all she wanted to do was veg on the couch with an old movie and a beer. She dropped her keys in the table top dish next to the door. The apartment still didn't feel like home. She didn't think it ever would. Though, to be fair, she wasn't sure anywhere could at this point in her life.

She was reaching for the entry way lamp when she heard the movement just before a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pushed against the wall. She gasped, her heart pounding, before she recognized the silhouette. Was this it? Was he here to kill her finally despite Red's insistence the Cabal had to vote on it first? Maybe with her gone, the rest of the team would be safe.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

"Shh. Shh," Tom muttered. His face was sad in the darkness. Were those cuts on his face? Just for a moment he looked like _her_ Tom. "I had nowhere else to go."

"Are you here to kill me?" she asked, her voice small. If he'd just let go of her, she could reach her pistol. At least then she'd stand a fighting chance.

"What? _No_. Of course not," he said, as if stunned and hurt by the suggestion.

She didn't find his wounded act all that convincing, all things considered. He loosened his grip on her but didn't move out of her personal space. She reached up and pulled her hat from her head.

"Then why are you here?"

"I can't be a part of SF8, Liz. I can't. They're plotting to systematically take you all out. They're watching and planning. I don't want to be a part of that. I _can't_," he pleaded. "I need your help getting out."

"And how exactly am I supposed to help?" She asked, heart pounding, head racing.

_He must be insane if he thinks I'll help him_, she thought.

"I need the passports. The ones you confiscated."

"Yeah, right," she snorted.

"I'm serious, Liz," he begged.

"What you're asking me to do," she said slowly. She shook her head in disbelief. "I appreciate that you turned yourself in. You came back for _me_. You were trying to help _me_." She pushed away from him.

"Liz, I'm in danger. I need the passports."

"I _can't_," she interrupted. "I just can't."

"Liz, _please_," he yelled desperately as she flipped on the lamp. "Turning myself in to save you, saved _me_. And not because the judge let me go. I've been running since I was fourteen. It's all I've done. And in that moment when the judge let me go? I thought, 'maybe there's a world where I won't have to run.' Where I could just….This kill squad wants you dead. If I leave, they'll hunt me too. So please. I need your help. I need the passports."

"They're not just passports," she said. It was hard to look at him when he was like this. Sympathy and contempt battle inside of her. "You put them in a box under the floor in our _home_. They represent everything I'm trying to forget."

"I know," he said, frustrated. Despairingly. "I wouldn't ask unless it was important."

"They're locked up in evidence."

He was playing her. Playing to her emotions. Whatever else this man was, he was a consummate liar, she reminded herself.

"That's exactly why they should still be _clean_."

"I'm not going to walk into evidence and steal them for you. Why would I do that?"

"You want me gone? Do this and you'll never see me again."

Back to bargaining. Sometimes he was so text book in his technique. How had she failed to see it before?

"You need to leave," she said, anger winning out as she pushed past him to open the door. "Go! Now!"

She spun toward the opening and came face to face with Red. His eyes turned deadly cold in a blink. He positioned his body in front of Lane, his weapon drawn and trained on Tom before Liz's brain processed it all.

"No," she said, drawing her own weapon, eyes focused on Red. Dembe's gun was out just as quickly, aimed on her. It startled and hurt her. She'd grown to like and respect Dembe but he was first and foremost Red's protector and it would serve her well to remember that. They stood there for a tense moment.

"Get out," Red growled.

He was unquestionably deadly. It was rare that he showed this side any more but Liz was awed by it. He wasn't all charm and logic and brilliance. Under it all, he was an assassin. Ruthless and lethal.

"I _was_ out," Tom said. "Remember? You're the one who brought me back _in_."

"Get out," Red repeated, lowering his weapon.

Dembe's followed immediately. Liz breathed a bit easier, holstering her own weapon. Tom pushed past her. He eyeballed Red as he passed him. Red glared after him until he was out of sight. He motioned to Dembe with his chin to follow Tom. Red snatched the hat off his head, clearly pissed, as he and Lane entered. Liz shut the door behind them.

"Perhaps I haven't made myself clear," he snarled decisively, narrowing his eyes.

"I came home and Tom was here," Liz replied defensively. Why did he always make her defensive? "So much for state of the art security."

"He's back in your _life_."

"He's _not_ in my life," she retorted, affronted.

"I understand what it's like to be drawn to something that is unhealthy. To a part of yourself you're afraid of. But I want you to remember how your life really was with him and imagine _all_ that it could be without him."

"I don't have to imagine," she said, not breaking his glare.

"And the damn security system only works if you arm it." He stepped away from her and flung himself into a chair.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said dryly, rolling her eyes at Lane, who just winked at her from behind Red.

"Good. I have a case."

X X X

The next morning, Red removed the stitches from Laney's finger before sending her off to her brother's for Beth's first communion, giving her strict instructions to check in. He didn't like being away from her but under the circumstances, she was probably safer right now with Dan. When he got the call from Roger Hobbs to meet, he knew it had been the right decision. Things were coming to a head, even if no one else sensed it.

Roger was waiting in the parking garage when Red and Dembe pulled up. Red got out of the car feeling a little out of sorts. Pulling on his hat, he wondered vaguely if the district would ever warm up or if it'd stay cold until June. What he wouldn't give to be on a beach with Laney somewhere. Bali, perhaps.

"Hello, Roger," he said, sauntering up to the man dressed all in black.

"The Director called for a vote," Roger said without preamble.

"When?"

"Tomorrow. I've been quietly lobbying on your behalf," Roger murmured.

"I appreciate that," Red said in an equally quiet tone.

"No you don't. You expect it," Roger replied. Red smiled a bit at that. Once upon a time they'd been great friends.

"Where do things stand?"

"I've spoken to Mitcham. He's with us. That means Brazil and South Korea are as well." Red nodded at that. Just as he expected. "That likely positions Jasper as the deciding vote. If we _can't_ secure his vote, the Director will have a majority to act against you."

"Then Jasper will have to be persuaded."

"These are powerful men. They don't respond to threats."

"No," Red agreed. "With powerful men, one must appeal to their vanity."

"Listen to me, Red," Roger said earnestly. "The Fulcrum. If you have it. If you can _prove_ you have it. Do it now. Your life depends on it."

"Set the meeting," Red said.

He gave Roger a jovial smile and patted him on the shoulder, not displaying his concern for the other man to see. A warning from Hobbs was a dire one. He wasn't given to overstating things. Red slid into the car grimly. How the _hell_ was he going to convince Lizzie to give him the Fulcrum without giving into her demands?

He had to hand it to her. She was dogged and stubborn. And while that might make him proud at any other time, it was damned inconvenient when it was impeding his efforts. The opportunity presented itself when she reached out a couple hours later. Dembe handed him the phone.

"Elizabeth," Dembe said.

"Lizzie," Red answered.

"I need you to put me in touch with someone who brokers _shelf_ corporations," she said, all business.

"Good. I need the Fulcrum," he replied. There was no time for subtlety today.

"Our ghost has a name," she said, barely missing a beat. She was wary now. "Vanessa Cruz. If I can find the person who brokered…."

"Agent Keen," he interrupted. Time to take the gloves off. He hated it but it was necessary. "I'm loathe to play tit for tat but unfortunately, due to present circumstances, I must insist on the Fulcrum. I'm afraid it's become an immediate matter of life and death."

"I know how much it means to you," she said, patronizingly.

"I don't think you do," he said with an ironic chuckle.

"And you know how much it means to me to know what part I play in all of this. But you told me it's a blackmail file and I'm a federal agent. I can't just hand over information to you that might give you leverage over people who, for all I know, _run our_ _government_."

"Those _people_ launched a missile strike on the Factory to kill us in order to keep their secret a secret," he pointed out, frustrated.

"This is about Tom, isn't it?"

"No," he said with a dry chuff. "This is simply about me trying to survive. I'm perfectly happy to put you in touch with someone who deals in shelf corporations? But I need the Fulcrum. Think about it, Lizzie," he said before disconnecting. It was the only hand he had. He'd have to let it play out.

"You could just tell her," Dembe said in his soft voice, taking back the phone.

"That's not going to happen. I believe we have a meeting to attend, Dembe."

He stared out the window as Dembe drove, resisting the urge to fidget. He'd learned to school his nervous habits long ago but that didn't mean he still didn't get the urge. All he could do was let this ride for a bit. Give Lizzie the time to come back to him with her counter offer. In the meantime, if he could get Jasper on his side, he wouldn't _need_ Lizzie's cooperation. That seemed to be his best bet for now and what he would focus on. When they arrived at the meeting spot, Roger was already waiting.

"I assume Jasper agreed to this little meeting?" Red asked

"He should be here momentarily. Do you know how you want to play this?"

"Leave it to me," he said with a stiff smile, stepping from the room. He didn't have to wait long until he heard Jasper's no-nonsense voice.

"What's so urgent?" the voice demanded. He was accustomed to his power and position and getting his way.

"I wanted to talk to you about Raymond Reddington," Hobbs said.

"The vote's not until tomorrow afternoon." The edge in Jasper's tone suggested he was suspicious. As he should be.

"The vote's all but taken. Not _officially_ but I've spent the last _six_ hours speaking with all the major players."

"You're back channeling," Jasper accused.

"You're damn right," Hobbs retorted. "If Reddington has the Fulcrum, his death triggers a protocol for release. We will be exposed."

"Why am I here?" Jasper demanded.

"You're the swing vote, Kenneth. You're the one who will make this decision."

"You know I lean towards the Director," Jasper said. "Why should I change that position now?"

That was Red's in.

"Because, Mr. Jasper," he said entering. "You strike me as a man who would prefer to pitch rather than catch."

The stunned look on Jasper's face was worth the wait. He swung his accusatory gaze to Hobbs.

"What the _hell_ have you done?" Jasper demanded of Hobbs.

"Just. Hear him out," Hobbs placated. "That's all I ask."

"Roger is quite right," Red said, his tone purposely soothing. "The Director's latest stratagem is hubris. It has very little to do with me and everything to do with the consolidation of his power. If he succeeds, you'll become nothing more than his trusted servant. He needs to go. He _will_ go. Tomorrow. After the meeting. After you win this vote with everything that your head and your heart tell you are true."

"You're talking about assassination," Jasper said.

"Yes, Mr. Jasper," Red agreed. "Ambition's debt must be paid."

"Julius Caesar."

"One of my favorites. The play, not so much the man. The man was a bit full of himself. He _did _have a brilliant military mind but he couldn't smell a plot to save his life. Intentional pun."

"And why is that?" Jasper asked.

"Pride. The subtlest and yet most deadly of the seven sins. Like the Director. He couldn't be saved."

"Which part do you play in all this? Cassius?"

"Ah, no," Red said, his voice masterful and enthralling. "I'm the Rubicon. You simply need to determine which side of history you want to end up on. Who are you, Mr. Jasper? The subordinate who remains slavishly obedient to his master? Or the presumptive leader of an organization that will be far more powerful than it has ever been?"

Red had him. He could see the gleam in his eyes as the older man smiled. Tension and power coursed through the room like an incoming tide. He held out his hand just enough that Jasper would have to reach for it if he wanted to make the deal. It was subtle but telling. A power play. The other man grasped his hand. The deal was done.


	37. Chapter 37

**37: Promises and Lies**

Lane sat cross legged on Beth's bed in her pajamas braiding Beth's wet hair as the little girl chattered about her upcoming dance recital. She was so excited to have a small solo and Lane couldn't help but smile, remembering nights like this with her own mother. Though being a diplomat's wife had kept her spectacularly busy, Anabeth Ryker always made time for her children. She had been loving and nurturing. Sometimes demanding but equally supportive. Their friends had always been welcome and when a young man with a rough life befriended her son, he'd become a member of the family too.

There were always days when she missed her mother desperately and this was one of them. Anabeth would have adored that her two sons had named their daughters after her. She would have loved that little Beth followed in her Auntie Lane's footsteps. Lane was glad, though, that her mother wasn't here to see how messed up it had all become. It would have broken Anabeth's heart to know what her husband and son had been dragged into.

"Bed time, kitten," Danny said, standing at Beth's door.

Lane slid off the bed and set Beth's brush on her nightstand. She pulled the covers over Beth's crossed legs and then waited for Danny to kneel on the floor next to her and lean over Beth's bed to say their nightly prayers. Her parents had done the same with them when they were children and it warmed her heart to feel like they were passing on a piece of that love.

When Lane found out in her early twenties that she would be unable to have children, she had gone into a depression. It was something that she struggled mightily with. Eventually she'd made her peace with it, as much as she ever would, but it was moments like this that made her realize she was missing out on a different part of life.

Why was she so melancholy tonight? It had been so easy to let herself forget about real life in the bliss of the last few days. She knew that time with Ray had been the eye of the storm and it made her sad to know it was ending. Who knew what would remain standing in the wake of the chaos.

She followed Danny downstairs. He pulled a beer out of the fridge and offered her one. When she refused, he grabbed a bottle of water and set it before her. He sat in the bar stool adjacent to her and twisted to cap off his beer.

"So Ray tracked you down, huh?" he asked, taking a pull from the bottle.

"No, he didn't actually. He's done everything in his power to push me away."

"He should. He shouldn't have allowed you to become involved in this. It's too dangerous."

"And yet you're involved. And what about Beth, for God's sake?"

"Beth is safe as long as I do what's expected of me," Danny said, gruffly.

"No matter how morally repugnant? My God, Danny, you were raised better than that."

"Was I, Laney? _You_ were raised better than that. _I_ was raised to follow orders. I wasn't afforded the same luxuries you were. I had to keep Dad happy and you and Mom safe," he said, his eyes, so like her own, flashing at her in anger. She couldn't find it in herself to feel sorry for him.

"You know what I can't reconcile in my mind? How you left your best friend—your _brother_—to face this alone."

"Ray made his choice! I tried to keep him from getting involved but he didn't listen. He was always too damn noble."

"Someone had to be! He got involved to help _you_. To watch _your_ back. And you just left him to burn. _Literally_," she retorted angrily.

"How can you take his side?"

"How can I take yours? Danny, you are my big brother and I love you with all my heart but this is _wrong_."

"Laney, I made a choice when I was young that has changed the course of my whole life. I was too weak to say no to Dad. I wanted his approval so badly. I hate myself _every day_ for that but I'm stuck now that I have Beth. They own me," his face and voice were tortured, raw. It hurt her to see her brother like this. She reached out and clasped his arm on the counter.

"Then let Ray help you. Let him get you _out_."

"He can't, Laney. Even if he gets me out, there's Beth. There's _you_."

"Let me worry about me. I can keep myself safe."

"No, sis, you can't," he said sadly.

"Then we'll all go."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?" she demanded, frustrated.

"Because it just doesn't," he said tiredly with a defeated sigh. "There's going to come a day, Laney, when they pit me against Ray."

"If you both refuse to fight, then they've got nothing," she said desperately.

"They'll have you and Bethany and Elizabeth. That's all the leverage they need."

"They know about Elizabeth?"

"They've always known. They just didn't know who or where she was. Ray's return changed that." He took a breath and clasped his hand over hers. "I need you to make me a promise."

"What promise?"

"I need you to promise me that if something happens to me, you and Ray will do what you need to do to keep Beth safe."

"Danny, you're scaring me."

"Good," he said gravely. "You should be scared. Promise me, Delaney."

"Of course I promise but…."

"No buts. Ray and I might be on opposite sides of this war, but I saw how he looked at you last week. I know he'll do what he needs to do to keep you safe."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, peeling her label.

"Uh huh. You're the worst liar ever," he said with a genuine laugh.

"Shut up, butt munch."

They stayed up talking for a while, catching up. Finally Danny called no joy after a long work week and headed to bed. Lane washed her face and crawled into bed with a book. It felt odd not to have Ray's warm presence beside her. Even though she'd seen him that morning, she missed him. Her phone buzzed on the night stand.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice pitched low so she didn't wake Beth next door.

"Hello, beautiful." Ray's rumbling tenor filled her ear.

"Hi, handsome. I miss you."

"You do?"

"Well, duh," she replied with a chuckle. "What did you do today?"

"Oh, this and that."

"Well, that was spectacularly evasive."

"Mmm," he agreed. "Did you have a good afternoon with Beth and Dan?"

"The best. Danny and I had a long heart to heart before he went to bed."

"And how did that go?"

"About like you'd expect," she said around a yawn. "I'll tell you about it tomorrow night. Know what?"

"What, sweetheart?"

"I feel empty, lying here without you."

"Me too, babe. I promise I'll hold you all night tomorrow. Deal?"

"Deal. Miss your face."

"Miss yours more. Goodnight, Laney."

"Night, Ray."

She laid there, phone cradled to her chest, staring at the wall until she finally drifted off.

X X X

They'd worked all night putting the finishing touches on the Cruz case. Ultimately they'd lost her, but Liz felt good about the case they'd built against her. If she ever surfaced again, she'd go down hard. Liz leaned back in her chair with a deep sigh.

"Me too," Ressler quipped. He looked as exhausted as she felt.

"I think I'm going to sleep the entire day," she said around a yawn.

"Better hold off on that dream, Agent Keen," Aram said, poking his head in the door. "Director Cooper wants to see you."

"Ohhh, _so close_," Ress said, standing and pulling on his jacket.

"I think he meant both of us."

"Yeah, no. This is all you, champ. But I'll think of you when I'm climbing into bed in twenty-seven minutes."

"I'm just going to leave that alone," Liz said with a laugh.

"You always do. Too bad, really," Ress teased with a winning grin.

"Go home, Ress. You're delirious."

"Sweet dreams, Keen," he said with a wink before the elevator closed around him. With an eye roll, she made her way to Cooper's office.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked at his open door, drawing his attention away from the case file. He motioned for her to shut the door.

"I thought you should know, Mason Carlton's going to be charged in the murder of Hernando Cruz."

"We lost her," Liz said with a deep sigh.

"Yes. And we will find her," Cooper assured her. "What matters now is the innocent people she framed are going to be set free."

Liz managed a small smile and a nod but she was still upset that they'd lost the collar. When she turned, her eyes fell on Cooper's cane setting against a hutch. She touched it with a genuine smile and turned back to him.

"This. Here. You. There. You have no idea how happy that makes me," she said honestly. Cooper smiled with silent understanding. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, she turned to leave.

"I wonder what his angle is?" he asked as she opened the door.

"Sir?"

"Reddington. Why give us this case? What's his interest in this Cruz woman?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Liz said. He was right. It was odd when she thought about it.

"Ah, well. Get some sleep, Agent Keen."

She smiled at that and went to gather her stuff. She had a missed call from Tom. Pulling on her coat, she took the elevator up to her car before hitting redial.

"What?" she asked when he answered.

"I need to see you. You wanted the truth? I'll give it to you."

"Tom…."

"Just meet me, Liz," he cajoled. "I'll send you the address."

Within moments of their disconnect, her text message buzzed with an address. She had to admit, she was curious. Where had he gotten government issued passports? They hadn't been fakes and legit passports on the black market were hard to come by. She pulled into an industrial area. She felt like any number of snuff films could have been filmed here. At least she was fairly certain Tom wasn't going to kill her. Not yet anyway. She pounded on the metal door.

"What is this place?" she asked, entering when he popped the door.

"Reddington."

"Tom, what are you still doing here?"

"I've been thinking about what you said. About needing to tell you the truth." His hand clenched and unclenched and he looked apprehensive. "So I'm going to tell you the truth."

"I don't understand," she whispered, her heart pounding.

"The passports. The passports came from Reddington," he whispered. The buzzing began in her ears. "Liz there's more." 


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: I didn't want to have to break this into two chapters because I feel like it messes with the flow but it was soooo long. Hopefully it's okay….**

**38: Reckoning**

Red's phone rang early that morning but he'd been up with the birds. Without Laney to soothe and distract him, he didn't sleep much, anticipation and concern for the day's vote weighing heavily on him. He picked up the phone and was disappointed to hear Jasper's voice. Hobbs had failed.

"It's me. It's done," Jasper said.

"I'm listening," Red said, noncommittally. Let the old man show his cards first.

"The vote went your way. The Director wasn't very happy but a vote's a vote."

"And Hobbs?" Red asked carefully.

"He wants to meet," Jasper supplied casually.

"Yes, I'm quite sure he would have," Red replied, his voice low. "But he can't, can he?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Hobbs was to contact me after the vote was cast. He didn't. Which means he's dead. Which means you betrayed him. Betrayed me." Red was dead calm now. He knew what had to be done.

"That's not true," Jasper tried to cover. "He specifically asked that the three of us should meet so that we can discuss the future."

"You need to run, Jasper. Run like the prairie wind because I'm coming for you. And when I find you, I'm going to cut out that forked tongue of yours and deliver it to the Director myself."

With that oath burning his heart, he disconnected the call. He was often given to theatrics but his threats were seldom anything but veiled promises. He would avenge Hobbs. He stared out the window for a moment, hating what he was going to say next. SF8 would have their green light now. It was only a matter of time before the attempts would begin. With no Fulcrum to hold off the Cabal, Red was now the biggest threat to those he loved. He couldn't allow that.

"It's time to go away, Dembe," he said, turning to his friend as he entered. Dembe was disconnecting his own call.

"Agent Keen wants to meet regarding the Fulcrum," Dembe announced.

That gave Red pause. The case was over. They'd lost Cruz and she was now safely in his employ. Why would Lizzie want to deal in the Fulcrum now? He had nothing to offer her. This couldn't possibly end well.

He and Dembe made the drive to her apartment. When they pulled up, she was waiting in her work vehicle. Red pulled on his hand and walked toward her. She was carrying a black bag and she looked grim. Exhausted. Defeated.

She'd spoke to Tom.

"What's wrong?" he asked, already guessing.

"I just spent the last forty-two hours dealing with a man who is a lifelong, habitual, pathological liar."

"Tom."

"Yes," she sighed. "Tom."

"Lizzie," he said, shaking his head.

"Don't…give me advice. This man. This liar. He told me something. Something that I need you to confirm. Now before I ask, I want you to understand that," her voice broke but she pushed on, "I expect you to give me the dignity of a yes or a no. Do you understand?"

Red's heart broke as he watched this young woman, who meant everything to him, struggled with what she knew in her heart to be true. She was giving him an out by pointing out Tom's inability to be truthful. Supplying a pattern of behavior that could cover Red's own indiscretion. She was hoping against hope that he'd take it. He could see it in the emotions playing just behind her eyes.

Lizzie had placed her trust in him and though he had done his best not to compound the lies, she would still see this as purposeful deception on his part. What was it Laney had said about lying by omission? His own eyes misted knowing that this would tear asunder all that he had worked to build with her. But he'd do it. Because he wouldn't lie to cover what he'd done.

"Yes," he said, unequivocally. He choked a bit on the rest. "I'm the one who entered Tom Keen to enter into your life."

She stumbled backward, stricken by his words. She'd known what he was going to say but she'd hoped. It was written on her face. Pain lanced through his heart as he reached for her.

"Can I explain?" he asked. He wanted to beg.

"No," she managed, tears filling her blue eyes. "No, you cannot explain."

She fumbled with the leather bag, her hands trembling. She was in a rush now. She wanted to be done with him before she fell apart. Somehow, that made it worse to him.

"Here," she said, pulling out a smaller, hard shell black case. "This is all you wanted."

Her tone was reasonable as she flipped it open to reveal the bubble module. He didn't give a damn about that right now. He just wanted to make this right. To erase the devastated look on her face.

"Now you have it," she said, shoving it at him. He refused to take it.

"Lizzie, when I hired Tom…."

"I said please do _not_ attempt to explain why," she snarled. "I don't _care_ why. I just want this to stop. I want it all to stop. Right now."

She was desperate as she pushed past him, laying the case on the car. She was hurting and he couldn't stop it. _He_ had done this to her. _He_ had caused her this pain. What she saw as his betrayal.

"Take it!" she yelled, hurrying to her vehicle.

"Lizzie," he managed. Then he raised his voice. "Lizzie!"

Without another word, she got in the SUV and slammed the door. Reeling, stunned, hurting, Red turned back toward his own car. He heard the shot and felt the searing pain that didn't even begin to compare to what Lizzie made him feel. He felt like he was suspended in time. He couldn't breathe.

_Finally_, he thought before the world went black.

X X X

Liz was reeling. Stunned. Angry. But most of all, she was hurt. She had come to trust Reddington. Care for him. She knew their relationship was odd and defied convention but he was the one constant she'd been able to count on the last two years. She'd meant what she told Tom earlier. She trusted Red. She believed him to be honest with her. How foolish Tom must think her. Even Reddington had been lying to her for his own gain. Of _course_ he had. He was number four on the FBI's Most Wanted list. Hell, he'd even warned her that he wasn't to be trusted. What the _hell_ had she been thinking? That she was special? That she mattered to him? She was a means to an end. To the Fulcrum. That was it.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was angry at him for looking so stricken. Vulnerable. Broken. Like this was hurting him too. She just wanted to be done. She wanted to be away from all of this. The lies. The warped sense of right and wrong. She put the Fulcrum down on his car and stalked away.

"Take it!" she yelled.

"Lizzie." She barely heard him the first time. Then his voice demanded his attention. "Lizzie!"

She slammed the door and was reaching for the ignition when the shot rang out. She watched, horrified, in what felt like slow motion as Red went down. Dropped like dead weight. _Dead_. Weight.

_Oh my God._

"No!" The word ripped from her chest as she fumbled to get out of the car. Dembe was already by his side.

"Dembe!" she yelled as he dragged Red to the meager cover the side of the car provided.

Her weapon was drawn as she ran toward them. Dembe pulled the black case off the car as she tore off her scarf, a gift from Red ironically, and used it to put pressure on Red's chest wound. Dembe produced a pistol and laid down cover fire in the direction of the still active sniper. Liz fired her own shots as Red tried to move before passing out. She and Dembe exchanged horrified looks as their hands pressed together over the wound. Blood poured out of Red's mouth, terrifying Liz.

"Reddington," she yelled, like somehow her voice would anchor him to her.

_Please, God. Don't let him die_, she prayed desperately before her tactical mindset took over. The sniper continued to take shots and she and Dembe took turns returning fire.

"You have eyes?" she asked Dembe.

"Fourth floor. East side," Dembe replied, sending up more vollies. There was no way they'd hit the sniper from this range even with the luckiest of shots. Dembe ducked back down and she went up, firing once more. At least if the sniper was taking cover, he couldn't get a good bead on them.

"Look out," Dembe said in the closest tone he got to excited. "Down."

His hand on her back pushed her down over Red. He fired once and took down a bearded man with a gun who was coming around the corner. Liz vaguely recognized him as one of the men Aram had complied as possible candidates for SF8 many days ago.

"We gotta get him out of here," Liz said. Dembe stood and hooked his arms under Red's and began dragging him back toward the back passenger side. Liz was gratified to see Red gain consciousness enough to try to help Dembe by scrambling backward. He was still alive. They just had to keep him that way. She laid down cover fire with renewed vigor and had the wherewithal to grab the case off the ground. Maybe Red had been honest about that, at least.

She stood to full height, hoping to draw the sniper's fire as Red and Dembe became most vulnerable. A shot spidered the back passenger window, somehow missing them all by the Grace of God and pure dumb luck. They all somehow managed to get in and Dembe fishtailed out. Adrenaline ruled Liz's actions now and she ran off pure instinct.

Now that they were away from the incessant, deafening gun fire, she could hear Red's unnatural wheezing. His lungs were in bad shape. They'd lose him if they didn't act quickly. With one arm thrown over the center console, she did her best to keep pressure on his wound while she dialed Cooper.

"Cooper, this is Keen." She knew she was probably yelling but she didn't care. "Reddington is down. I repeat, he is down. Shot and critical."

"Shot? Where? Where are you?" Cooper demanded. She glanced at the passing street sign.

"Euclid and Drake, headed southwest."

"Lizzie, don't," Red managed from the back seat, grasping at her hand.

"Reddington, stay still," she demanded. "He's shot in the chest. I'm going to lose him if I don't get him to an ER."

That little truth almost caused panic and hysteria to rise up. She bit them back ruthlessly. His life depended on her keeping her cool. She wouldn't lose him. She would _not_ lose him.

"Are you secure? Unfriendlies?" Cooper asked.

"Unknown but I'm gonna need an escort and back up…." Dembe snatched the phone and tossed it out the window. "What are you doing?"

Dembe pulled his phone out of his inside coat pocket and handed it to her.

"Dial star seven seven," he instructed.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Star seven seven," he repeated. Liz did as she was told.

"Seventy-seven, what is your location?" a female voice answered.

"Who is this?" Liz demanded. There was a brief pause.

"What is your location?" she demanded, forcefully this time.

"Mr. Kaplan?"

"_What_ is your location?"

"Capitol and M." The call disconnected. "I don't know what Mr. Kaplan has planned but we need to get him to a hospital right away."

"No hospitals," Dembe interrupted.

"I'm sorry but we don't have a choice," she pleaded desperately. "I'm not going to let him die and it can't wait."

The gasping from the back seat added urgency to her words. The phone rang. She snatched it open.

"Mr. Kaplan."

"There's a warehouse. 5312 Mass Ave. Say it back," she demanded.

"5312 Mass Ave," Liz repeated dutifully. Dembe nodded once.

"Get there now. We'll be waiting."

"Who will?" Liz asked.

But it was too late. Mr. Kaplan had already disconnected. Red gasped again and she dumped the phone in Dembe's lap before reaching back with both hands to put pressure on the wound.

"Just hold on. _Please_. Just hold on," she pleaded.


	39. Chapter 39

**39: You're Up, Fresno**

They were at the warehouse within fifteen minutes but it seemed like an eternity to Liz. Red was turning gray and becoming far less responsive. They were losing him. Liz prayed to God that Dembe and Mr. Kaplan knew what they were doing. A makeshift trauma room with a full trauma team was set up when they pulled into the warehouse. Dembe jumped out. Mr. Kaplan paced on the sidelines.

"Shot in the chest. Right side," Dembe said.

Liz watched helplessly as they pulled Red out of the back seat and loaded him on a gurney. The trauma team jumped into action and all Liz, Dembe, and Mr. Kaplan could do was stand back and pray. Red was fully conscious now. His eyes searched for Lizzie. When they found her, he reached out his hand. She hurried to him, taking his hand and putting her other on his chest, leaning close.

"You need…," he struggled breathlessly. "You need to find Leonard Caul."

"Caul?" she clarified.

"Leonard Caul," he repeated, his green eyes glassy. He struggled to say something else, "…Dembe…. You need to find him, Lizzie."

She held his hand in both of hers until the medical team forced her out. She was reluctant to let go. With a squeeze she wasn't sure he felt, she dropped Red's hand. She moved quickly to Dembe's side.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Leonard Caul, Dembe," she said, grabbing his arm. She stumbled, shocked as she realized her hands were soaked in Red's blood. She held them out in front of her, horrified.

"Easy," said Mr. Kaplan, sitting her down on a crate. "Hands out."

Liz did what she was told and Mr. Kaplan dumped saline over her hands. She scrubbed them clean as best she could. How could he still be living when she was wearing so much of his blood? Her eyes strayed back to Red in wonderment.

"Elizabeth," Dembe prompted gently.

"Right," she said, taking a breath and refocusing. "Leonard Caul. What do you know?"

She listened patiently as Dembe told her everything he knew. How many secrets this silent centurion must know. He was present for everything but said little. She'd have to remember that.

"I need your phone, Dembe," she said. He hesitated for a moment before handing it to her. She dialed Cooper.

"Cooper," he answered.

"Reddington's in surgery."

"Surgery? Where? We've checked every ER in the city," Cooper said. She heard him switch her to speaker and assumed the team had been recalled to the office.

"We're in a warehouse. 5312 Mass Ave. He has some sort of mobile crash team."

"Dispatch units now," she heard Cooper tell someone.

"Reddington gave me a name."

"Who?" Samar asked.

"Leonard Caul," Liz said.

"Who is Leonard Caul?" Cooper asked.

"He must know something about the people who organized the hit?"

"So Reddington knows who's behind this?" Ress clarified.

"Whoever they are came after Reddington because they thought he had this device. The Fulcrum. It's a blackmail file on a group—the Cabal. He told them he had it and he didn't. They finally called his bluff and tried to kill him and they _will not stop_ until they do."

"So we find Leonard Caul," Cooper said.

"Nothing on him in the system," Aram said.

"According to Dembe, before Fitch died, he told Reddington to find Caul. That he would have information about the Fulcrum. The Cabal. Reddington asked Aram to trace a call to an apartment but when they got there, Caul was gone. All they found was blood. No body."

"He didn't tell me what it was for," Aram said in a rush. "And…uh…I definitely didn't ask. But I can probably still pull up the location."

"Alright, Keen. We got a team on the way," Cooper said. "Stay safe for fifteen minutes and you're home."

"Do you think we should call Lane?" Liz asked tiredly, her adrenaline beginning to abate as she disconnected with Cooper. The cavalry was on the way.

"No," Mr. Kaplan said, catching her off guard. Did she even know who Lane was?

"Mr. Kaplan is right," Dembe agreed. "Raymond would want Delaney to fulfill her familial obligation."

"She's going to be so angry."

"I will call her after the ceremony. I promise," Dembe assured her. Liz just nodded, too tired to argue. They stood by, lost in their own thoughts as the trauma team worked on Red.

"We've got company," one of Red's security team called, opening the warehouse door. Liz, Mr. Kaplan, and Dembe all turned in tandem, Dembe drawing his weapon.

"Protective detail," Liz assured him. Two men in dark suits she didn't recognize entered the building.

"We've got units securing the perimeter and a chopper inbound to evac the patient," the older of the two said, in a no-nonsense tone.

"No, we're not…," Liz started as he drew a pistol and fired once—twice—before both men fell. Liz stared, stunned, at Mr. Kaplan who stood in a shooting stance holding a revolver as big as she was.

"What the hell?" Liz yelled.

"The Bureau issues Glocks or Sigs. Whatever these gentlemen are, they're not FBI," Mr. Kaplan said calmly.

"There will be more," Dembe said, springing into action. Liz ran to the operating area.

"How long before we can…," she burst in and then stopped in her tracks. To her left lay the surgeon, dead. "What's his status?"

"What?" asked the terrified nurse.

"His status," Liz repeated, pointing at Red. "What is it? Can he be moved?"

"No," the nurse said emphatically. "M-maybe. I don't know."

"I need a definitive answer," Liz demanded. "We have to go. Now."

"Go? We can't go," said the EMT, standing. "If we move him, he'll bleed to death. We just now found the compromised artery. We still have to cauterize it before we can close him."

"So do it," Liz said, nodding.

"That was his job," he said, pointing to the dead doctor.

"Does anyone here have surgical training?" Liz asked, calmly.

"Two years," said the nurse, standing from where she attended the surgeon. "Fresno State."

"You're up, Fresno," Liz said.

She hoped the woman could handle it. It was the only chance they had. Mr. Kaplan stepped in, her heels clipping at an urgent pace. She held a phone out for Liz to study.

"They're coming," Liz breathed, reading the texts.

"Yes," Mr. Kaplan agreed. "I responded to their message but we don't have more than fifteen or twenty minutes."

"Twenty?" Fresno objected. "No. E-even _he_ would need at least thirty minutes to close this tear."

"You have fifteen," Liz said as kindly as she could before she followed Mr. Kaplan out. She had to get them a new surgeon. Someone who could finish the job properly. "Dembe, may I borrow the phone?"

This was a long shot but it was her only choice. Red's only chance. She dialed the number, hoping it hadn't changed. She was relieved with the familiar voice answered.

"Nick?" she asked. "H-hi. It's me. Liz." Dead silence on the other end. "Nick. I need to ask you a huge favor. It's a matter of life or death."


	40. Chapter 40

**40: Confluence of Peril**

It was odd for Lane to be back in her childhood parish. She rarely attended Mass—Christmas and Easter with Danny and Beth. Life on Broadway hadn't been conducive to organized religion. She was surprised to find that it still smelled the same with vague hints of incense and expensive perfumes, a subtle hint of the Easter lilies that still decorated the alter. It still felt hallowed, deserving of her reverence. She genuflected and slid into the pew before Danny.

She'd helped get Beth ready that morning, making them all pancakes and then setting to the task of putting ringlets in Beth's thick, dark hair. When she'd zipped her up into the dress, Lane had to bite back tears. Beth was a vision of Lane's mom.

"What's wrong, Auntie Lane?" Beth had asked, concerned.

"Nothing, kitty. You just look so much like Grandma Ryker that it caught me off guard."

"Daddy always says I look like her too."

"Daddy's right."

"I wish I could have met her," Beth said quietly.

"I wish you could have met her too, Bethy. She would have adored you," Lane said, hugging her.

"Really?"

"Of course, silly. She would have loved watching you dance and she would have bought you pretty dresses and talked about books with you."

"Do you think she would have baked cookies? Bella F's granny makes cookies for her lunch all the time."

"Oh, yes," Lane said. "Grandma Ryker was an exquisite chef. She could make anything."

"I'm so glad you stayed with us, Auntie Lane. Daddy hardly ever tells me stories."

"Well, sometimes it's hard for Daddy. He gets really sad when he things about Grandma and Grandpa Ryker."

"Don't you get sad?"

"I do but sharing them with you makes me happy. It's like they're watching us from heaven."

"I hope they're watching today so Grandma can see my pretty dress," Beth said, holding out the skirt and spinning once so that it belled out.

"Oh, baby," Lane said, giving her another squeeze. "I know they are."

Now sitting next to Danny in their church, Lane felt inexplicably weepy. She didn't give in to it but emotions swirled through her as she watched the children process in before the priest. Beth sent them an angelic smile as she walked by and Lane watched Danny blink back emotion.

"Suck it up, Marine," she whispered, nudging him with her elbow.

"Bite me, blondie," he responded.

More stable now, they returned their focus on the mass. It ran a bit longer than a normal mass but they were done after an hour and a half. They went to an early dinner, Beth's choice, when it was over. They talked and laughed over Chinese food, Danny trying to impress them both with his chopstick skills. Lane couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Danny laugh this much and it made her heart happy.

"Time for your present," Lane said when their plates had been cleared away.

Beth squealed with a bounce. Lane handed the bag across the table to her and watched as her niece yanked the tissue paper out. She pulled out the blue satin box and flipped the lid.

"Oh, Auntie Lane," she breathed, her eyes huge. "For me?"

"Yep. Do you like it?"

"It's _so _pretty," Beth said, fingering the cross reverently. "It's like there's liquid fire in there."

"The stones are opals. Some of my favorites. Daddy will have to take it to Father Radcliffe and get it blessed, okay?" Beth nodded and slid out of the booth.

"Will you put it on for me?" she asked. Lane carefully removed it and released the clasp. Beth clumsily held up her curls as Lane secured it for her.

"Let me see," Lane said, turning her. She adjusted it a tad so it laid right. "Beautiful."

"Thank you so much, Auntie," Beth said, throwing her arms around Lane.

"You're welcome so much, baby."

Lane was on the road a half hour later, her heart full. She was so grateful for the lovely couple days with her brother and niece and she couldn't wait to get home to see Ray. She had missed him more than she'd expected. In another life, they could have enjoyed this weekend together and it would have been pure bliss. Her phone rang and she smiled. Probably him being impatient, wanting to know when she'd be home. She hit the answer button on her steering wheel.

"Hello?" she answered cheerily.

"Delaney." Something in Dembe's tone put her on high alert immediately.

"What's happened, Dembe?" she demanded, fighting back a wave of panic.

"We were ambushed. Raymond's been shot."

"What?" she gasped, hysteria buzzing in her ears.

"He's out of surgery now. He's critical but stable."

"Thank God," she breathed. "Tell me where you are."

"It's too dangerous, Delaney. Raymond wouldn't want…."

"Raymond forfeited his right to an opinion when he got himself shot. Tell me where you're at," she demanded. He rattled off the location. "I'll be there soon."

Lane broke every traffic law, pushing her SUV. It was reckless and dangerous but she didn't give a good damn. Shot. Ray had been shot. She said a thousand prayers and imagined every horrific outcome during that long drive. She was shaking by the time she pulled up. There were men with guns everywhere. As she jumped out, she hoped they were friendly.

"Stop," one challenged, pointing a semi-automatic assault rifle at her. Everything about him screamed mercenary.

"That's my fiancé in there," she lied. "So shoot me or let me pass." Ray was right. Boyfriend sounded stupid coming from a 45 year old woman.

"I'll shoot," he warned.

"It's okay. She's with Mr. Reddington," Dembe's voice called. She ran across the cracked pavement in her heels.

"Dembe," she gasped, clutching his arm when she reached him. He looked weary but on high alert. He took her hand in his enormous grip and led her through the door. Bodies and wounded men littered their path as they picked their way through.

"Oh, my God," she breathed.

"We've had several attacks today. Raymond is awake. He will not be happy that you're here," Dembe warned.

"I don't care, Dembe. He can just be mad. I'm glad you're okay," she managed.

It was then that she spotted Ray, lying on a gurney, medical staff attending him in the middle of this God forsaken hell hole of a warehouse. He looked small and gray and the polar opposite of her vibrant Ray. Tears filled her eyes and she clapped her hands over her mouth to hold back the sob. She must have made some sort of noise because he rolled his head toward her. He blinked once. Twice. As if to make sure she was really there.

"You shouldn't be here. Dembe, it's too dangerous. She shouldn't be here," he managed, his voice little more than a whisper.

She rushed forward, taking his face in her hands and raining kisses over it. She was pretty sure she was crying but she didn't care. Words flooded from her between kisses as she scolded him for being stupid and reckless and scaring her to death. His hand came up to grasp her wrist.

"Delaney."

"Don't send me away, Raymond. I won't go. I'm not leaving you ever again."

"Delaney," he repeated.

"What, Raymond?"

"I'm okay, sweetheart."

"You're not okay. You're so riddled with bullet holes that you're practically swiss cheese. I can't even leave you alone for two days!"

"Don't worry, honey. I'll be gouda soon," he quipped. She couldn't help it. She laughed at his incredibly lame joke, pressing a kiss to his wan but smiling mouth.

"Hey," came a voice behind them.

"Lizzie," Ray said, his eyes cutting to her before they went back to Lane. "Can you give us a minute, sweetheart?"

"Of course," Lane said, squeezing his hand. She stopped in front of a shell shocked Liz. "You good?"

"All good," Liz assured with a small, feeble smile. Lane gave her a quick hug and left them.

X X X

"Lizzie," Red said again, interrupting her inane chatter about hospitals and security. He had to clear the air about Tom _right now_. He refused to wait any longer. She was still angry with him. He could see that. But he couldn't let her leave believing that he'd hired Tom to take it this far. Hurt her this badly.

"When I hired Tom Keen…," he started.

"Don't," she interrupted. "There's nothing you can say."

"When I hired Tom Keen," he started again, more forcefully as she turned away. "It was at a time of profound transition in your life. You'd already left behind the relative safety and innocence of youth. Sam's care as a father had served you well but you'd outgrown him. A-and I knew that eventually, my life would jeopardize yours. So in an admittedly presumptuous and ultimately futile effort to keep you safe, I hired Tom. Simply to be there. As a friend of a friend. To look after you from an arm's length. When I learned that your relationship had become intimate, I fired him. I should have removed him. But you were already in love with him. And Tom? He shifted his allegiance to Berlin—in part to protect himself from me, but also? Because it allowed for an inextricable intimacy and commitment to you. And so you were married. And I couldn't stay away any longer. A confluence of peril had entered your life and I w-wanted to be within reach. To have influence. I turned myself in to the FBI to point you toward a truth that, inevitably, you would have to discover for yourself."

"Is that all of it?" she whispered, her face shocked and wary.

"Some of it," he answered, unwilling to lie to her again.

"Why couldn't you _just _have said _yes_?" she asked, anger taking over. "It wouldn't kill you to lie just once to make someone feel good."

She walked off angrily and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears that lay just below the surface. He heard the click of Laney's heels as she re-entered. He felt her lips press against his temple. He was grateful that she didn't say anything, just stayed close and left him to his thoughts. God, he'd missed her.


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: Sorry this is so short. We had an unexpected death in the family and the stress has completely stolen my muse. Hopefully I can regroup this weekend and get my head on straight. We're closing in on the last several chapters and I don't want to lose it now!**

**41: Boredom**

After an abbreviated stay in a hospital, despite his objections, Red was glad to be free. Dembe had secured a secluded lake house that would afford them security and privacy. Good on her word, Laney hadn't left his side and she was seeing to his care now that they were home. He awoke in the pre-dawn hours to find her in a chair next to the bed, slumped over asleep on her crossed arms near his knee. He ran his hand gently through her soft curls.

"Laney," he whispered. She stirred but didn't awaken. "Laney."

"What? What's wrong?" she asked, sitting straight up and blinking owlishly at him.

"Come to bed, sweetheart. You can't keep sleeping in that chair."

"What? No. You're recovering from a major gunshot wound. I'm not jostling you around."

"Sweetheart, this bed is big enough for six people and it's made of memory gel. You could do cartwheels on the other side of it and I would never feel it. Please? I want you near me."

"Raymond," she warned.

"Please, Delaney? I miss you." With a heavy sigh, she capitulated.

"Fine, but the first sign of pain and I'm sleeping on that manky old couch until you can run a mile without wheezing."

"That's a bit excessive," he said dryly.

"Yeah, well. I mean it." She crawled into the other side of the bed but it was so far away that it was actually worse than having her in the chair.

"Delaney."

"Raymond," she warned in a laughingly frustrated tone.

"I really meant for you to be next to me."

"You're real needy this morning, slick," she muttered. He couldn't help but grin as she crawled over next to him and collapsed. "Better?"

"Will be when you hold me," he said, rolling to his side a bit, presenting her with his back.

It was the only way he could sleep comfortably for now. With another sigh, she inched up behind him, fitting her body to his. He drew her arm around him and laced his fingers through hers.

"This is what I've needed," he said with a contented sigh, his body going lax. She pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Me too, babe."

X X X

Lane spent most of Ray's convalescence care in bed with him because it was the only way she could keep him still. They read, watched movies, listened to music. But mostly, they talked. He filled her in on what she had missed and she told him about Danny asking that they both keep Beth safe if anything happened to him.

"Of course we'll see to her safety," Ray scoffed. "However, I don't need your jackass brother to be a noble, self-sacrificing fool because he's too proud to let me help him."

"I told him basically the same thing," she agreed, examining the nails he'd just polished on her right hand. "You're pretty good at this. You might have missed your calling."

"I think not," he said, capping the bottle.

"Your turn."

"My turn to what?" he asked, looking at her like she was crazy.

"To let me paint your nails of course."

"Clearly you need to open a window. The fumes are making you daft."

"Come on, Ray. I'm boooored," she whined, poking out her bottom lip.

"Oh, God. Not with the face. Didn't we agree you couldn't use that against me?"

"_No_. Pleeeeease?"

"No, Delaney."

"Just your feet?"

"No."

"Just one foot?"

"_No_."

"Just your big toe? Come on, Ray. I really want to," She drawled, bouncing a little.

"Oh my God," he said dramatically. "Fine. _One toe_."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms in triumph. "You won't be sorry."

"I'm already sorry," he said, amused. He watched as she straddled his calves, blocking his view with her back.

"You can't see til I'm done," she said, narrowing her eyes at him over her shoulder. "No peeking."

He just raised a brow at her. She made quick work of the polishing and leaned over to blow on it. He wiggled his toes.

"That kinda tickles, babe."

"Be still," she ordered.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see. _There_! Perfect!"

She moved off of him, grinning winningly. He looked down. His big toe nail was painted bright green with a yellow face on it. It smiled up at him from the length of his leg.

"Really, Delaney?"

"Yep," she said proudly, popping the p at the end. He leaned up and snagged her hand, pulling her to him.

"Hey," she protested. "You're going to hurt yourself. And fuck up my nails."

"All about the priorities," he said dryly, angling his face up for a kiss.

"Exactly," she said, obliging him. His hands strayed to the bare leg below her denim shorts. "Uh uh. Hands off."

"What if I promise to let you do all the work?" he bargained, eyes hot.

"_No_. You're supposed to keep calm."

"You better start letting Dembe give me my sponge baths then," he said huskily, running his nails up and down her thighs.

"Keep this up and that's _exactly_ what I'll do," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Now that's just cruel."

"Mmm, you have no idea," she whispered before kissing him with pent up passion. She ended it just as quickly. His breath came in raspy, little gasps. "I rest my case. You have the lung capacity of a tad pole right now."

"I'll argue that when I catch my breath," he managed.

"Poor baby," she murmured, brushing a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm tired of this God forsaken bed," he grumped.

"I know, sweetheart. The doctor said you can start moving more freely by the end of the week. We can sit on the porch. You can walk a little bit. You just gotta tough it out for a couple more days."

She leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth before crawling off of him. She knew it was totally out of character for him to be this sedentary. The man was always on the move. He was getting peevish and grumpy. She was doing her best to keep him occupied but even she was bored out of her skull. There were only so many board games they could play, movies they could watch.

Maybe she should call Liz and have her come over. She could bring Ressler. They could play a trivia game and cook on the grill. It would give her a chance to talk to Liz. Find out what had gone on while she was away. Ray had told her bits and pieces but she'd like to hear the whole story from someone who had witnessed it all. Ray would be pissed that she reached out to Liz. He'd made it quite clear that Liz was to be left alone until she was over being mad at him. He didn't want to push her further away. Lane, however, felt like she'd grown to understand Liz over the last few weeks. Yes, the younger woman was mad. She had every right to be. But she was still here and that meant something. Even if Ray didn't get it or accept it. He needed to learn to trust her instinct. More, he needed a distraction. Maybe it was time to take matters into her own hands.


	42. Chapter 42

**Ooooomg, it took me so long to write this. Idk why it's been so difficult the last couple weeks. I think my muse went to the beach without me. This is kinda long but I didn't want to break it up. I hope you didn't give up on me after all this time!**

**42: Mata Hari**

"You shouldn't have invited her," Ray said crossly as Lane led him out to the deck.

It had been unexpectedly warm for the last couple days and she thought they could use the fresh air. Ray was increasingly cranky and she was sick of being cooped up in house. She'd helped him don jeans and the fleece hoody he'd lived in for the last couple weeks. He'd wanted to dress properly and she'd wanted him to stay in comfortable cotton pants so he didn't feel inclined to over-do it. The jeans were a compromise although he'd bitched endlessly about it. Despite his objections, he still couldn't make it far before his energy was totally tapped and she wasn't going to let him over extend himself for pride's sake. He could just deal.

"Well, I did," she retorted, helping him settle into an Adirondack chair facing the water.

"You shouldn't have. She's still mad," he persisted.

"Raymond," she said, leaning on the arms of the chair so he had to tilt his head up a bit to see her. "It's done. She wasn't so mad that she said no."

"You…."

"…shouldn't have invited her. Yeah, I got it. Now stop being grumpy faced and give me a kiss," she demanded. He heaved a sigh and tugged her onto his lap. She straddled him carefully and kissed his sullen mouth.

"I'm tired of being stuck in the house. I don't mean to take it out on you," he said tiredly, running his hands over her bare legs.

"I know, babe. That's why we're going to enjoy the fresh air, company, and good food." She leaned forward and pressed another soft kiss to his mouth.

"Ew, gross. None of that," came Liz's voice as she and Ressler walked around the corner of the house. Her eyes were covered by sunglasses, her hair pulled back, but the wince was still evident on her face. With a laugh, Lane extracted herself from Ray's lap and stood.

"You made it," Lane said, taking some of the grocery bags from them both.

"No thanks to Mr. I-Know-Where-I'm-Going over here," Liz said, cutting her eyes toward Ressler.

"Yeah, well your GPS wanted to take us to Maine, so hush your mouth," he retorted, rolling his eyes. Lane shot an amused look at Ray who just shook his head.

"How's he doing?" Liz asked softly as they entered the kitchen through the back patio door. All the windows were open and music was playing from a small radio in the window above the sink.

"Better. Still struggling to breathe but getting stronger. Grouchy as hell."

"I heard that," he called through the window.

"Nothing wrong with his ears," Ressler said with a smirk. He pulled beer out of a bag, cracked two and headed outside.

"Hey, no worries, Ressler. We'll get our own," Liz snarked, shaking her head.

"I have complete faith," he called back.

"Jackass," Liz muttered good naturedly, twisting the top off a beer and handing it to Lane.

Lane grabbed a steno pad and a deck of cards as they made their way outside with their own drinks. She dumped them on the low table between the four chairs and settled down adjacent to Ray. She propped her bare feet in his lap and took a long pull from her bottle. She smiled to herself inwardly as his empty hand moved to rest on her ankle. If she was close enough these days, he was touching her. She wasn't even sure he was aware of it any more. Not that she was any better. They'd grown impossibly close of late.

"What's your poison?" Ressler asked, leaning forward and snagging the cards.

"Anything that doesn't involve this one," Ray said, tilting his head toward Lane. "She's a terrible cheat."

"Am not!" she objected. Liz raised her brows, questioning, while Ressler shuffled with an amused smirk. "He thinks card counting is cheating."

"It is," Ressler and Ray said in unison.

"How is it anything but sound strategy?! It's like situational awareness. Or chess! You anticipate your opponent's moves in chess. Why can't I anticipate the cards?"

"I mean, she has a point," Liz said, with a laugh.

"Thank you," Lane said smugly, sticking her tongue out at Ray. He chuckled. "Besides, it's not like we were playing for money. You're just a sore loser."

"She beat you?" Ressler asked.

"Trounced me. Handily. Every damn time. I'm considering taking her to Monte Carlo."

"Eccentric billionaire and his card sharp girlfriend? We could totally pull it off," she said with a laugh.

"We could," he agreed with an indulgent grin, running his thumb over her instep.

"Hearts?" Liz suggested.

"No," vetoed Ressler.

"Oh Hell?" Lane asked with a smirk.

"_No_," Ray insisted.

"Why don't you guys pick since you're being big ol' babies," Liz suggested, crossing her arms.

"Strip poker?" Ressler threw out.

"NO," the others said firmly.

"Bridge," Ray said.

"I don't know how to play," Liz replied.

"It's easy," Lane returned, taking up the pad and starting a score sheet while she explained the game to her.

After Liz played a hand, she got it down pretty good and the girls beat the boys, much to the frustration of the men. Ressler was grumbling when Lane stood to go start working on dinner. She leaned down and kissed Ray on the head.

"I'm going to go work on the food while you boys lick your wounds," she said with a cheeky grin. Ressler narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'll help. You can teach me how to cook too," Liz said, jumping up.

"God, please, yes," Ressler said.

Lane stopped midstride and glanced back over her shoulder. Ray had zeroed in on Ressler. Liz, who was facing Lane, had her eyes squeezed shut. She opened one and looked at Lane as if gauging what was going on behind her from the expression on Lane's face.

"You have personal knowledge of Lizzie's cooking?" Ray asked, his brows raising over his sunglasses.

"You don't have to answer that," Lane said, shooting Ray a look.

"I believe he does," Ray said, ignoring her, his gaze still pinning Ressler who just raised his own brow.

"Raymond."

"Delaney."

"Let it go."

"For now."

Shaking her head, she held the door open and motioned Liz in. Liz heaved a sigh as they went into the kitchen proper. Lane began pulling items out of the fridge and lining them up on the counter.

"What are we making?"

"Hamburgers, salad, sweet potato fries, and roasted veggies. Do you really not know how to cook?"

"I mean, I understand the mechanics, I just suck at it."

"Well, all of these things are easy to make and they're tasty and healthy, so you'll have a good start."

"Can I ask you something first?" Liz asked, fidgeting with her phone as she leaned against the counter. Her demeanor put Lane on alert.

"Sure?"

"Do you know who this is?" she asked, flipping the phone toward her so Lane could see the screen.

It was a picture of a very young Liz sitting in the lap of a woman that Lane recognized instantly. She studied the picture for a moment and then Liz's face. She could see the naked hope mixed with fear on the younger woman's features. Where had she gotten it?

"The little girl is you. I think you know that," Lane said honestly.

"And the woman? Is she my mother?" Liz asked hopefully.

"I don't know how that woman is related to you or why you're with her. I'm sorry, Liz," she said, seeing Liz's crestfallen look. "I wish I could tell you what you want to hear."

"It's okay," Liz replied, putting her phone in her pocket. "It was a long shot."

"Elizabeth, talk to Ray," Lane prompted, touching Liz's arm. "I think you'll find that he'll be more open now that you're kind of all in with the Fulcrum. I don't know that he'll tell you everything but he might be able to at least answer your question about the picture."

"I'll think about it," Liz said with a sigh, picking up a sweet potato to wash it. "I just don't have much faith in him right now."

"That's a mistake. Good or bad, that man would lay down his life for you. Move heaven and earth for you. _Kill_ for you. You may not understand his motivation or even like his tactics but you are his_ only_ priority. Never doubt that."

X X X

Later that night after they'd eaten and socialized and Liz and Ressler had taken their leave, Lane found herself lost in thought over the picture. She washed her face slowly, her mind going over and over things. She was a million miles away when Ray reached out and snagged her hand, pulling her onto the edge of the bed at his hip.

"Want to tell me what's put that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"The look that says you want to be alone until you work something out in your head." He played with her hand, running a blunt tipped finger over her pink, puckered scar, gauging her response to his inquiry.

"Liz showed me a picture on her phone. It was of her, just a little younger than when you first brought her to America. She's sitting in the lap of Katya Alexandrova."

"Oh."

"Raymond?"

"Delaney?"

"Why is there a picture of Elizabeth with my family's foreign exchange student?"

"She's Lizzie's mother."

"How is that even possible? You met her like once," Lane said, turning toward him.

"That was the _first_ time I met her. It wasn't the only time."

"Clearly."

There were several moments of silence before Lane finally raised her brow. It was time for full disclosure and she knew he knew it. With a sigh, he patted the bed on his other side. Understanding, she crawled over him and sat cross-legged, facing him.

"The woman you knew as Katya Alexandrova was known to me as Katarina Rostova. She was a KGB agent. Her stay with you was a cover. A way to get her into the US."

"She was Directorate S?"

"Yeah."

"And how did you become involved?"

"Illegals played a huge role in espionage during the Cold War. The Cabal, the CIA, all were working to stem the bleeding, so to speak. Kat was my target."

"And as such, became your lover."

"We fell in love."

"Raymond," she said somewhat scornfully.

"Yeah, I know. It's the first thing they warn you against. I'm not saying it wasn't foolish," he said dryly, with a trademark carelessly, Raymond Reddington shrug. "I was her target too. We both played on the feelings we developed for each other. I wanted her to defect. Stay here and live a better life."

"Your feelings for her were real," Lane clarified, tipping her head to the side as she studied him.

"And her loyalty to Mother Russia was stronger than anything she ever felt for me," he said with a self-deprecating half smile.

"Surely you didn't believe a KGB agent was just going to up and defect for this country? We stood for everything they hated."

"It wasn't just that. By that point, I was learning the true nature of the Cabal. I wanted to be done with it all—the group, counterintelligence. I'd completely lost faith in everything. I wanted out but I just seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into this quagmire of deceit. Then one day she just left a note saying she couldn't live a lie anymore and she disappeared."

"How did Elizabeth come to be?"

"Not long after that, I met Carla. She was everything good and right in this world and I clung to that. I threw myself into being a good man for her, a father figure for Jennifer. We married a short time after that. It wasn't until later that I began to hear rumors about Kat. She became a legend in the counterintelligence community. A femme fatale. A Russian Mata Hari. So naturally, when she had a child, there was great interest."

"And that child was Elizabeth. _Your_ daughter."

"Yes. I wasn't certain for a while until I started exploiting some of my contacts. Eventually it became clear that Masha—Elizabeth—was mine."

"And you went after her."

"I tried to do it civilly at first. I still cared deeply for Kat. When it became clear that wasn't going to work, I took Lizzie and brought her back to the States."

"Enter me."

"Yeah."

"And where is Katya—Katarina…whatever. Where is she now?"

"Dead."

"Did you kill her?"

"No."

"Elizabeth is eventually going to work up the courage to ask for the truth," Lane said, plucking at an invisible spot on the blanket.

"I know."

"Are you prepared to give it to her?"

"Not all of it."

"Why? She knows about the Fulcrum, she has a picture of her mother, the Cabal knows about _her_. What else could you possibly need to hide from her?"

"There's so much more that you—that _she_ doesn't know about. There are things I'm still protecting her from."

"And me?"

"Sweetheart, you are the _only_ thing that has remained a constant in my life. You know the best and the worst of me. Despite my efforts to the contrary, you have become my confidante. My sounding board. My moral compass. I have nothing left to hide from you."

She nodded in acknowledgement. She could accept that she didn't know everything about him, that she might never know it all, but he was willing to let her in if she asked. That's what mattered most to her. She wanted to curl into him, hold him. Have him tell her that he loved her. She knew without a doubt that he did, just as she knew she would never hear the words from his mouth. Not like this. Not with everything so tenuous and ephemeral.

"Laney. Come here please," Ray said quietly, as if reading her mind. She resituated herself so she could rest her head on his chest. "My life has been a mess for as long as I can remember. I'm sorry that I'm not a better man. That I can't give you a life worthy of what you mean to me."

"I only want you. Exactly as you are. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"I'm yours," he said simply.


	43. Chapter 43

**43: On The Mend**

"_That's _what you're going to wear?" Lane asked, pulling on leggings as Ray entered the room in a suite the color of rich chocolate.

"What, not a good color?" he asked, raising a sardonic brow, brushing a nonexistent speck off the lapel.

"You're a bit overdressed for a walk," she replied exasperatedly.

"I have some things I need to take care of." He watched as she yanked on ratty running shoes.

"No, you don't," was her forceful reply as she pushed gracefully to her feet.

"I don't?"

"Ray, you're on the mend but you're not better. If you don't take care of yourself, you'll never recover fully. You know this. Quit being stubborn."

"Quit being bossy," he retorted without much heat.

"Well, I wouldn't have to be if you'd do what you ought."

"I have an associate downstairs. Leonard Caul. We have much to discuss. And Lizzie is on her way. After that, I'll walk. I promise."

"Raymond, you have one hour. If you're not moving by then, I will personally ban everyone from this house until you start complying with your physical therapy."

"Oh, I love it when you're feisty," he purred, snagging her wrist and narrowing his eyes at her.

"Don't even think that Raymond Reddington charm is going to sway me," she murmured, her voice every bit as silky as his. He dipped his head in for a sultry kiss that would have convinced her he was feeling better if he wasn't gasping when he broke it off. Her smug look spoke volumes.

"Just shut up and go," he said, giving her a gentle push toward the door. Her laughter drifted back as she jogged down the stairs.

Lane went into the kitchen and opened a carton on Greek yogurt. She scraped it into a bowl and dumped some granola into it before mixing it up. She grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and followed the voices into one of the parlor rooms downstairs. A diminutive, balding man with glasses and a dark gray shirt was standing in front of some computers talking to Ray, who was sitting rather uncomfortably. For as much as he wanted it to appear to the world that he was fully functioning, she knew he was still in pain. Dembe glanced at her as she entered. She eased herself onto the table he was leaning against and ate her yogurt.

"That data's over 25 years old," Ray was saying. "Much of it must be obsolete."

"Most of the key delegations are run by the same players," the other man said.

"The Director believes there are too many players on the board. He thinks a bipolar world is inherently more stable," he said, looking at the wall where they had catalogued the Cabal's sins decade by decade just the day before.

"Whatever they're planning to accomplish, it won't commence until 2017."

"Well, he's advancing the timeline. With Hobbs gone, I've lost my man on the inside. We _need _to find Kenneth Jasper. He's one of the Director's closest allies. He'll know what they're planning. I threatened to kill him when he betrayed Roger Hobbs. More specifically, I threatened to cut out his tongue and deliver it to the Director personally. He won't be easy to find, but he's the best play."

Lane made a sound of disgust, suddenly losing her appetite with that thought. Both men turned to her, Ray with a rather amused look on his face. She set her bowl down with some disgust. It was then that she noticed the bandage on Caul's throat. Someone had done a piss-poor job trying to kill him. She wondered if it was intentional or if the killer was just that inept. Cutting the carotid was pretty straight forward.

"Laney, meet Leonard Caul. Leonard, this lovely creature I just repulsed is Delaney Ryker."

"Daniel Ryker's sister. I'm familiar with her," Caul said sounding less than pleased. Lane tipped her head to the side.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage then, sir."

"I don't know that I trust her presence here," Caul said to Ray. "She's very attractive, I'll give you that. But no piece of tail is worth risking being double crossed by the Cabal."

"You'll want to watch your tone, Leonard," Ray said, going completely still, his eyes cold. "_And_ your implication."

"I apologize if that is insulting to your delicate sensibilities," Caul said to her with a slight bow. "You'll understand if I'm a bit leery."

"I assure you, Mr. Caul, that my sensibilities are neither delicate nor easily insulted. If you're uncomfortable with my presence, however, you're welcome to show yourself out."

"Delaney," Ray warned.

She turned to look out the window behind her as she heard a vehicle pull up. She recognized Liz's work SUV. She gathered up her bowl and hopped off the table.

"Elizabeth's here," she said, moving toward the kitchen so she could exit through the back door. "Have a lovely morning, Mr. Caul."

"She doesn't like having her loyalty questioned," she heard Ray say by way of apology.

"Don't apologize for me," she called over her shoulder. "He lobbed the first shot."

She made herself comfortable in one of the dusty, old wrought iron lawn chairs on the side patio. Liz climbed out of her vehicle and made her way up the hill. Lane heard Ray step out behind her.

"You two look…cranky," Liz observed.

"Raymond's friends have no social graces," Lane retorted, dropping her now empty bowl on the table next to her.

"He has every reason to be suspicious, darling," Ray said tiredly, dropping a file on the table and sitting.

"And I have every right to put him in his place when he steps out of line without you apologizing for me."

"Swanky digs," Liz said sarcastically as she tripped over an unseen rock in the middle of the yard.

"Seeing as how you recently paid a visit to my apartment in Bethesda, you know I have a fondness for the old and somewhat decrepit," Ray said, sinking further into the chair.

"Dembe asked me to go," Liz said, studying Dembe to judge if she was going to get him in trouble. His face was nothing but earnest. "To get the interface for the Fulcrum."

"He _needed_ you to get the Fulcrum. He _wanted _you to discover secrets. Did you discover any secrets, Lizzie?"

"What's that," Liz asked, pointing at the file, clearly not ready to discuss the picture she'd found.

"Please, help yourself," Ray said, motioning to it.

Liz took a seat next to him and picked up the file. Lane remained silent as they went through the file. A new case for the task force, something for Ray to focus on and get back in the game from a distance. She found she couldn't argue with that approach. She stared out at the water, lost in thought as their conversation washed over her.

"The smuggler also has business with the Cabal," Ray was saying. Lane turned her attention back to them.

"The Cabal," Liz clarified.

"The Taiwan Festival bombing in 2011—32 dead, 9 injured. The IED that took out the convoy headed to the Chinese consulate in Jakarta last year. Another 17 dead. Both were engineered by the Cabal. And this same smuggler was used to transport those explosives to their final destination."

"You want to target one of their assets?" Liz asked. "I went to the Director. Showed him the Fulcrum. Restored the détente."

"The détente is over, Lizzie," Ray said succinctly. "What you know about the Fulcrum, what the Director now knows you know—by saving me, you revealed yourself to be a potent enemy. A target they will try to discredit and destroy. The smuggler. We need to find the smuggler."

"You won't scare me off," Liz said, tucking the information back into the folder.

"Of course I won't. That would be far too simple and you're too stubborn for that."

"She comes by it naturally," Lane said, pushing to her feet and gathering her bowl. "Your hour is up, Ray. I'll give you two a moment while I rinse this and find Dembe and then you're taking that damn walk."

"And suddenly it all becomes clear," Liz said with a chuckle, standing.

"That woman is going to be the death of me."

"Quite the opposite, I think. You're…whole when she's around," Liz observed, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes were soft for a moment, something that hadn't happened in a very long time. Maybe she'd forgiven him a bit.

"She's part of the reason, Lizzie, but not all of it," he said, softly.

With an accepting nod and a tight, almost shy smile, Liz walked off down the hill. Lane reemerged with Dembe. She was pulling an armband up her arm. She presented her arm to him.

"Pull," she said, motioning to the flap. He tightened it for her and tugged one of the earbuds free since he could hear the music blasting. She gave him a questioning look.

"Have a good run," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She tilted her chin up and with a ghost of a smile, he kissed that too.

Lane set a hard pace, letting the pulsing music carry her away. The lack of physical activity was making her antsy and cross. She hadn't danced since before Ray was shot and she'd only run a couple times. Ray believed it was too dangerous for her to go by herself and Dembe wouldn't leave Ray long enough to go with her. She'd taken to running while Ray got his exercise in, going until they were almost out of sight before turning and going back the same distance in the other direction. It wasn't ideal, but it would do.

She had only made one lap when Dembe motioned to her. She pulled her earbuds out and stopped. Ray's breathing was labored and he looked completely winded.

"Just one more lap, Raymond," Dembe said in his gentle voice. "This is an important part of your therapy."

"You should have let me die, Dembe," Ray scolded. "Nobody told me about this aimless walking."

"Jasper's gone," Caul said, coming down the hill toward them.

"How gone?" Ray asked.

"Canceled all meetings and fled in his Gulfstream four days ago. Bogus flight plan. No record of any visas issued. Not as much as a passport swipe."

"Dembe, call Alex and Barton and book him a flight to Key West. Jasper's yacht is docked at the Admiral's Club marina. A Benetti Romanza—_Arrivederci Bella_. Barton can pass for Jasper from a distance. Go aboard, take her out a mile or two. Blow her up."

Lane walked ahead of them as Ray continued to give Dembe instructions. It wasn't lost on Lane that Ray looked old beyond his years as he struggled up the hill with Dembe's help. It scared her, honestly, to see him so frail. She knew it would take time for him to recover fully but she was going to do everything in her power to make sure that happened sooner rather than later.

"Drink," Lane said, handing him some water when he collapsed on the couch.

"Tell me it's something stronger than what I think it is."

"You know better." She settled in next to him and pulled her feet up, unconcerned that her shoes would damage the tattered fabric beneath them.

"You stink," he teased after a few sips.

"I stink good," she retorted, a smile tugging at her mouth. "Besides, I barely had time to get sweaty."

"I'll get you sweaty."

"Mmm," she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "If I thought it wouldn't kill you, I'd certainly let you try."

"Then I'm really going to need you to stop wearing leggings. And shorts…and skirts."

"So I'm okay to wear jeans?" she asked, amused.

"Nope, those either."

"Fat kid sweats?"

"Nope because as ridiculously big as they are, they're kinda cute."

"You're not leaving me a whole lot of choices, babe."

"That's the dream."


	44. Chapter 44

**AN: Thank you for the favorites and comments that continue to trickle in. I promise that I'm going to finish this! Once I lost momentum, it was really hard to start back. I think that's because I know the end is near and we know it's not going to be happy. That said, I'm super excited for Thursday and I can't wait to see what Season 3 has in store for our favorite duo. **

**44: Heart and Mind**

They sat in the quiet of the musty old drawing room that they'd converted spontaneously into a war room since Leonard Caul had come to stay. Lane still wasn't overly fond of the gruff man but they'd come to a reluctant truce, seeing the other had Raymond's best interest at heart. Caul stood by the open laptop while Ray lolled somewhat uncomfortable in one of the rickety Queen Anne chairs they'd dragged in from another room to serve as in impromptu desk chair. While the man on the screen proclaimed his own health and well-being, Ray chuckled, quite pleased to see the man clambering for damage control.

"Call Hollenbeck in Boston," Ray said to Dembe, who stood next to him watching an iPad. "I want a surveillance team outside that station when Jasper leaves. I suppose we should find out from Dr. Renovich if I'm cleared to fly."

Lane snapped the book shut and stood from the wing back chair next to his. The bland look on his face, the set of his mouth, the slightly arched brow all told Lane that Ray was anticipating what was coming next. Instead of yelling at the pig-headed mule as she so desperately wanted, she dropped her book on her chair.

"I'm going for a run," she said to the room at large. Ray's brow furrowed at her unexpected proclamation.

"We've had this discussion, sweetheart. It's too dangerous for you to go alone," Ray said.

"But I want to," she managed as petulantly as she could.

"Delaney, it's not safe. You could be hurt. Or worse."

"And would that bother you?" she asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head while she studied him, doing her best to look like a pouty child.

"Don't be stupid."

"Would it?" she persisted.

"Of course it would. I want you hale and hearty so we can continue to have these exhilarating little tete-a-tetes, exasperating though they may be," was his dry retort.

"Then why in the hell would you jeopardize _yourself_ by trying to fly too soon?"

"I _knew_ it," he said, eyes narrowing. "I knew it was a trick. You gave yourself away with the whining. Completely out of character."

"Don't try to hijack this conversation."

"If the doctor says that I'm cleared to fly, then obviously it's not too soon."

"That doctor would say anything if it meant a decent pay out."

"True enough, but if he killed me, who would pay for his gorgeous mistress and the long weekends to Tahiti."

"Gross," she said, trying to shake the mental image of the wrinkly old man and some young woman on the beach out of her head.

"Darling, I'm feeling much better."

"Yeah, until your lung collapses somewhere over Massachusetts," she retorted.

"Raymond," Dembe said with a heavy sigh, handing Ray the tablet.

Lane's brow furrowed and she stepped closer as she watched Liz's face fill up the screen. It looked like a live video from somewhere Lane didn't recognize. What she did recognize was the look on Ray's face. Like he was about to be cornered and he was completely uncomfortable with the idea.

"Hello, Mr. Kershaw," Liz said. It was clear to Lane that she was pissed. "I saw your name on the mailbox. I know you're listening. You know how I know? Because this is where you keep all of your secrets. You don't want anyone finding those out, do you? Well, unless you answer my questions, I'm going to find every…last…one."

"Let me have your phone," Ray said to Dembe, handing the tablet back to him. His entire countenance had changed and Lane knew without asking that this had something to do with Liz's past. She watched as he dialed Liz's number.

"You've made your point, Agent Keen," Ray said, his mouth taut. "It's time we discuss the photograph."

When he disconnected the call, Dembe and Caul left quietly, unnoticed. Lane removed the book from her chair and sat back down, watching him closely. There was a distinct sadness about Raymond that he didn't try to hide from her. Like he knew he was going to break his own heart but he was preparing to do it anyway. Lane cast about in her head for something appropriate to say but there was nothing. They'd done this all before. It was like running into a brick wall, over and over.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, breaking the silence for her.

"What am I thinking?"

"That I should tell her the truth. That I should just come clean and put it all out there once and for all. That keeping secrets is going to tear this tenuous relationship we have apart."

"Sweetheart, that voice you hear is yours, not mine," she said gently. "It's your heart telling you what to do."

"'The heart says yes, but the mind says no,'" he replied, quoting Einstein.

"'That knowledge which purifies the mind and heart alone is true Knowledge, all else is only a negation of Knowledge.'"

"Ramakrishna," he said with a humorless chuff.

"Yes," she agreed. "But it's true. As long as you continue to give her half-truths, you're only going to underscore for her the things that she knows she doesn't know."

"I can't tell her everything. It's for her own well-being."

"Can I play Devil's Advocate?"

"Don't you always?" he asked, brow raised.

"If I'm Elizabeth, I have a hard time seeing what could possibly be more damaging to my well-being than all that has already happened. Sam, Tom, the Fulcrum. Now she finds a picture of her mother. What stops you from telling her the truth? That woman is nothing if not resilient. She has risen above everything that has been thrown at her in this life and that's some pretty heavy stuff. She's a fighter. So what are you protecting her from? What do you have to lose besides what you're already jeopardizing with secrets?"

"This isn't about me, Laney."

"Then what is it about?"

"Elizabeth is here," Dembe called softly before Liz herself barged in.

She carried a picture frame in her hand and her face was a study of anger and fear. Ray and Lane stood together and moved to the door. Lane squeezed Ray's arm before she brushed past Liz. She wanted to give the young woman some sort of encouragement but everything about her screamed 'hands off.' Lane stepped out into the hallway with Dembe.

"The girl is you," Raymond said, leading Liz further into the room. "The woman is your mother."

From her vantage point, Lane could see Liz studying the picture with new eyes. She looked a little awed. As if the old frame in her hand was suddenly some precious artifact to be handled with care. Liz sat down in a chair, the anger suddenly leaving her.

"What was her name?" Liz asked quietly.

"I knew her as Katarina Rostova. One of her many names." Liz looked up at that. "She was a KGB agent."

"The girl. The night of the fire. They called her…."

"Masha," Raymond supplied. "You were born in Moscow. Your parents…uh, father,…they were both in foreign intelligence."

"You said she died of weakness and shame."

"Yep."

"You were there that night. I need to know what happened."

"You want to know," Raymond clarified. "There's a difference."

"Dr. Orchard told me someone blocked my memory of that night. Was it you?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Liz asked almost gently.

"I'm not going to tell you."

Lane could hear the thickening in his voice and new that Raymond was struggling with his emotions. Her heart broke for the two of them. She wanted to turn and walk away but she stood rooted in her spot next to Dembe, a silent witness to the pain of two people she cared so very much about.

"You have a picture of my mother in your weird little apartment," Liz said, her voice suddenly cold. "Why? Were you in love with her? Is that why my father died? You killed him because you were in love with my mother? Tell me what happened. Please?"

"I'm not going to tell you what happened, Lizzie," Raymond replied, his voice almost inaudible from the hallway.

"Then I'll find out for myself."

Liz stood, picture frame in hand. She walked across the room and placed it on the table by the door, her eyes boring into Lane's. Lane could read the emotions there—anger, pain, determination, betrayal. She met Liz's gaze. She wanted to follow her out. Offer her some sort of comfort or words of wisdom, but Lane had none and this wasn't for her to patch up.

Her eyes went back to Raymond when Liz left. He sat propped against the table under the window looking haggard. She walked into the room until she stood between his legs. Smoothing her hands over his chest, she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, standing there for just a moment, breathing in the scent of him. Wishing again that she had the right words. But finding none, she left just as silently as she entered, going upstairs so that Raymond could have time with his thoughts.


	45. Chapter 45

**AN: So what did you guys think of the season 3 premiere?! I was driving my daughter home from dance so I missed the first 10 minutes and was confused for the whole show about what was up with Dembe. I can't wait to get home and re-watch it in its entirety tonight!**

**On another note, this was really hard to write. It needed to happen but after basically an entire length of a novel with these two, it was difficult to do. We're closing in on the end but I already have ideas for the sequel after last night's show. I wonder if anyone will even bother to read it? Lord knows this one hasn't been the most popular. BUT I'm SO grateful for those of you that have stuck with it. Your reviews, though few, honestly make my day! You're amazing!**

…**.**

_This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear: return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on. _–Chris Cleave

**45: Forked Tongue **

"Tell me you did _not_ bring that man into _our house_ to _torture_ him," Lane whispered furiously to Raymond.

The melancholia that enveloped Raymond after his visit with Elizabeth gave way to a dogged quest for revenge. A quick round trip to Boston brought Kenneth Jasper literally to their doorstep. Ray hooked his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans and tugged her forward.

"This is exactly why I told you to go to the office, sweetheart," he said, kissing her forehead. "You don't have the stomach for this."

"Oh, give me a break," she hissed. "I'm a CIA operative for God's sake. You of all people should know what I'm capable of."

"Then why are you upset?"

"Because this is _our house_. We _live_ here. Don't you have…places…for shit like this?"

"I'm sure I could arrange for something but this was so spur of the moment and this place is secure. Besides, this isn't really _our house_. It's not like I'm desecrating the room where we celebrate family holidays or something."

"You're totally missing the point," she huffed as Samar Navabi entered. "Oh, fabulous. Really perfect, Raymond."

She stomped up the stairs.

"I adore you," he called up after her.

"You better not get blood on my furniture."

"You don't even like the furniture, babe," he retorted with a snort.

The slamming of a door was the only reply he got. Lane couldn't help it. There was just something about Samar that she didn't like, didn't trust. She was the only team member that wasn't really giving of herself. Her personality, her motives, never peeked through. And Lane got it. She did. She behaved the exact same way when she was on a mission.

But therein was the problem.

Samar comported herself like she was on a mission. Lane could excuse that for the first couple months in a new team environment but after all this time? The woman never let her guard down. Ever. It wasn't natural. Lane expected some sort of kinship or, at the very least, mutual respect. Two women fighting their way through foreign intelligence? It wasn't easy. But as much as she wanted to like Samar, she just didn't.

With a huff, Lane threw herself down onto the bed. She pulled her book off the nightstand and curled onto her side. Whatever was going on downstairs was surprisingly quiet and Lane was eventually lulled into a light sleep.

The distinct sound of a gunshot broke the silence and sent Lane rolling to the floor in a defensive crouch. She slid Raymond's nightstand drawer open and pulled out a pistol. She checked the chamber to make sure he already had a round in it and duck walked her way to the door. After peeking out the door and assuring no one was in the upstairs hallway, she snuck silently to the stairs. When she got near the bottom of the steps, she spotted him.

"Dembe," she called as softly as she dared, still vigilant as she moved toward him, heart racing.

"He's okay, sweetheart," Ray assured her, coming out of the war room. Dembe pushed to his feet.

"What the hell is going on? I heard a gunshot," she said, her head swiveling between the two of them. "You're hit."

"Paint," Dembe assured her, touching the spot and showing her his fingers.

"It was just a sim round, Laney," Ray said, easing the pistol from her hand.

"A sim round?" she asked incredulously. "Did I miss the training memo?"

"No. Agent Navabi shot him."

"_What?_"

"It was a ruse, darling. We set it up to mislead Jasper. It was slightly less messy than what I had originally planned."

"You…you set this up? And you didn't think to tell me? Are you out of your fucking _mind_?! Who does that?" Now she understood why he'd taken her gun. She was half tempted to use it on him, the bastard.

"Delaney…."

"Don't you Delaney me, Raymond Reddington. If you weren't half dead, I'd punch you right in the face right now. I swear it."

"I love it when you're feisty," Ray said, his free hand finding her waist and pulling her up against him.

"Don't. Don't even think about it, slick."

He leaned down and nipped at her ear and she shivered in spite of herself. Damn him.

"Agent Navabi will be returning soon. You should go back upstairs. I made a promise to Mr. Jasper and I _always_ keep my promises." Remembering exactly what that promise was, she wrinkled her nose. "I know vengeance isn't your thing, sweetheart. I'll do it where you can't hear."

"Thank you," she said dryly. Ray and his weird acts of chivalry. She held her hand out for the gun.

"Is it safe?" he teased.

She invaded his personal space, pressing her mouth to his in a surprisingly sensual kiss. When he was sufficiently distracted, she slipped the pistol from his hand and broke the kiss. He held her in place a few seconds longer, his eyes hot on hers.

"If I'm healthy enough to fly, I'm healthy enough to take you upstairs and teach you a lesson about kissing me that way," he murmured.

"Promises, promises. But alas, you have business to attend to, people to maim. Damn the luck."

She blew him a kiss over her shoulder as she sauntered up the stairs. His shaky, frustrated sigh was enough to make the sexual frustration worth it.

X X X

Red and Leonard were waiting on the front porch when Agent Navabi returned with Jasper. The older man looked less than pleased and Navabi looked triumphant—or as close as she ever got to showing the emotion. Leonard took Jasper and led him down the slope to the dock, Dembe following closely behind.

"I don't think he knows much," Navabi said as they watched the trio walking away. "There will be an attack on a defense installation sometime next week but the Director hasn't revealed his plans."

"Nice work, Samar," Red said.

"He said something I think you should be aware of," she said quietly.

"That sounds ominous."

"Mr. Jasper said he knew the Cabal had someone inside the task force. He assumed it was Agent Ryker."

"Well, he's wrong," Red said flatly.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her dark eyes earnest.

"Yes. I am." And he was. He absolutely was.

"Okay," she said with an accepting nod of her head. "Then let me leave you with something to think about. If the members of the Cabal believe she's their asset, then she can still be shielded from whatever's coming."

Navabi took her leave quietly while Red stared out over the water, lost in thought. She was right. As long as the Cabal thought they had some sort of sway over Laney, she could be saved. He supposed that was Dan's doing, his way of protecting his baby sister. With a heavy sigh and feeling like he now carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, Red walked down to the dock to join the other men.

It was later, after he'd fulfilled his promise to Jasper, that Red received the call from Lizzie that caused his blood to run cold and solidified his resolve. Karakurt was on American soil. Whatever the Cabal was planning, it was going to be bad. He could no longer shield Lizzie from the madness but Laney was another story. He knew what he had to do.

The pit in his stomach grew as he drew closer to the house. He was going to have to drive her away. There was no way she'd leave on her own. And he _knew_ there was no way he'd convince her that he believed she had betrayed them. It wasn't lost on him that the stability of her character and the strength of their relationship were going to make this really damned difficult. He'd never had anything like this before—never _felt_ like this for someone before.

And he was about to single-handedly destroy it.

He followed the smell of simmering sauce and the sound of her singing to the kitchen. He had to swallow hard to hold back a sudden rush of emotions. She stood there, hair piled crazily on top of her head, hip cocked with one bare foot resting atop the other, stirring a large pot of spaghetti sauce. She seemed to sense his presence on some level.

"Hey, babe," she said, shooting him a smile. She did a double take. "What's wrong?"

"Delaney, we need to talk."

"Those are the world's most dreaded words," she said with a laugh, tapping the spoon on the side of the pot before placing it on the spoon rest and covering the sauce.

"Come sit, please," he said, motioning to the kitchen table.

"Raymond, are you breaking up with me?" she teased, gray eyes shining. His involuntary wince had her sobering immediately. "What is it? Is Elizabeth okay?"

"She's fine. Everyone's fine," he assured her. "Agent Navabi had some interesting news to share."

"About?"

"Apparently the Cabal believes that you're one of their assets."

"I expect they do. It's the only reason the Director of the CIA would allow one of his operatives to be part of a task force that's in direct opposition of his clandestine activities. I'm sure Danny has furthered that notion at every opportunity. Did Agent Navabi indicate that she believed that information to be true?"

"She asked."

"And you said?"

"I know where you stand, Delaney."

"Do you?"

He could see it now, the operative in her. Her posture was deceivingly relaxed but her eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of his own body language. Her response to him was almost as cold as it had been in the beginning. How long ago that seemed. How far they had come.

"Of course," he said with a sigh.

"Then why are you still addressing me as Delaney?"

"It _is_ your name," he retorted dryly.

"Not to you."

"I need you to leave."

"Leave what?"

"Me. This place."

"For how long and to what end?" Her voice was calm but he could see the tension around her mouth.

"For good."

"No," she said simply, pushing to her feet. He knew she would walk away now, try to end this conversation before it turned into the fight he needed it to be. He snagged her wrist, holding her in place.

"We both knew this had to end at some point. We've known that since the beginning. That day is today."

"Why?"

"Because you're of no use to me."

"I was never of use to you. I wasn't here _for_ you. _You _didn't bring me in." She put her hands on the table and leaned down until they were eye to eye. "I don't know what you're playing at, Raymond, but try again."

"Look, this has been…amusing," Ray said as dispassionately as he could muster, rising to his feet.

She cocked a brow, her chilly façade cracking with her effort to hold back an angry retort. The clinical portion of his brain knew that he had her and that he should continue along this line of commentary. His heart though? It ached with the hurtful lies that poured from his mouth next.

"This just isn't working. It's too much effort to try to keep this up. I mean, it definitely has its…perks…but I need to concentrate on Elizabeth. The Cabal. I respect you enough to be honest and to tell you that I just don't want you here anymore. I don't need you."

He watched the words glance off her like a blow. She crossed her arms, seeming to shrink before his eyes.

"Liar," she said softly, her eyes on his. He gave her a cold, sardonic smile. "I know you care about me. I can see it in everything that you do. You're just trying to appease some misguided urge to protect me."

"Darling, I've built my life on lies. On playing the feelings of others. _It's what I do_. I could sit down and make a list of women right now who would swear that I cared about them and left them to protect them—for their own good."

"Yeah, you probably could. But I'm not them."

"No, you were much easier to sell it to than most," he retorted with a smile, striking the final blow. He watched as she swallowed back tears. "It's time for you to go, Delaney. You've served your purpose."

"This isn't you, Raymond. You're not cruel. You're trying to drive me away because you know I won't leave otherwise," she said, her voice thick.

"I assure you, I'm not. This is over, Agent Ryker. You need to gather your things and leave."

"No."

"Oh my God. I mean you were clingy as a kid and it was annoying, but this? This is edging onto pathetic. Have some self respect. I don't want you, Delaney."

He watched as she fought back the tears, unwilling to let them spill. God, it broke his heart when she did that. Why couldn't she just rage and cry? Why did she always weather an emotional storm like this? He knew he was hurting her and yet she still tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. See the good in his actions. Walk in his shoes.

He wanted to gather her up in his arms and tell her he was sorry. He wanted to tell her that he loved her and that he _did_ need her. That he would want her until he drew his last breath. He wanted to erase everything from her mind that he'd just said. More than anything, he wanted to take away the deep hurt he could see looking back at him.

"You could have done this a thousand ways, Raymond," she said finally, her voice little more than a whisper. "You could have asked me to leave in a million different ways. You didn't have to resort to this."

She walked past him, careful not to touch him. He stood there for long moments, listening to her light footsteps on the stairs, the sound of her moving around in the room above him. Finally, unable to listen to the sounds of her leaving, he went out on the porch.


	46. Chapter 46

**46: Misdirection**

Lane didn't cry on her way to her brother's. She was too numb to feel much of anything. Dembe had wordlessly helped her load her meager belongings into her vehicle, more out of sympathy than necessity. Ray had been nowhere to be found. She knew that would sting later—that last little slight.

She had sent a text to her brother to let him know that she was coming so she wasn't surprised when he met her on the front porch. After one look at her, he silently opened his arms. She sat down her bags and walked into them. Goosebumps peppered her skin as she held on to him for a moment, overcome with a wave of emotion.

"You're shaking," Danny pointed out.

"I'm okay," she replied, stepping out of his embrace.

"You'd feel better if you'd cry, Sis."

"I hate crying."

"I know, but sometimes the soul just needs to wash all the junk away."

"No tears will accomplish that," she whispered. Ruffling her hair with a sympathetic sigh, Danny picked up her bags and led her inside. He motioned her to the kitchen and took her bags upstairs.

"Auntie Lane!" cried Beth from her seat at the counter where she worked on her homework. She scrambled down and threw herself into Lane's arms. "I missed your guts!"

"Missed your brains, kitty," Lane replied, holding the little girl.

"Did you bring my friend?" Beth asked curiously, looking behind Lane as she leaned back in her arms.

"Not today, sweetie," Lane said, managing to keep her voice steady. "What are you working on?"

"Math," Beth replied with a heavy sigh, crawling back into the bar chair. "I hate math."

"Really? I love it," Lane said. Beth gave her a doubtful look. "No, really. It's like a puzzle. Or a foreign language. Numbers never change. Once you figure out the secrets, it's fun to work through all the clues to find the answer."

"Fun? We don't have the same kind of fun, Aunt Laney," Beth muttered. Lane laughed despite herself.

Lane helped Beth finish her homework while Danny grilled their dinner. Lane appreciated the effort but spent most of dinner pushing her food around her plate. After Beth's shower, Lane French braided her hair and tucked her into bed. Her niece's incessant chatter kept Lane's mind occupied enough that she didn't stop to dwell on Ray and his ugly words.

Danny and Lane sat across from each other now in the quiet kitchen. Danny had made her a mug of hot chocolate and had shoved a bag of mini-marshmallows in front of her. She stirred them into her hot chocolate mechanically, unfocused eyes watching them circling gently. Danny took a long pull from his beer before he finally ventured into the fray.

"What happened?" he asked finally.

"He kicked me out." Lane's voice was flat even to her own ears.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "One minute, things were fine. The next, they weren't."

"Did you have a fight?"

"No. It had something to do with Kenneth Jasper."

"Kenneth Jasper?" Danny asked incredulously.

"I don't think your friend is alive any longer."

"He's a prick. We were never friends, but maybe you should start from the beginning."

"'In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.'"

"Not that beginning, smart ass," Danny said dryly.

"I don't know all the details but Jasper somehow betrayed Ray and Roger Hobbs."

"I guess that explains Roger's 'leave of absence.'"

"I'm pretty sure that's a permanent leave of absence. Ray believed Jasper was his next best chance to finding out what the Director's plans are. Apparently Ray threatened Jasper after the thing with Hobbs so Jasper went into hiding. Ray made it look like Jasper died in a boating accident. So to stem the bleeding and to prevent his stocks from crashing, Jasper had to go public to prove he was alive."

"And that's how Ray got him."

"Yes."

"Clever," Danny said grudgingly. "Go on."

"Ray…questioned him. I wasn't there, so I don't know what was said. All I know is that at some point, Jasper revealed that you all had someone on the inside and that he assumed it was me."

"Which, of course, is untrue. Surely Ray knows that by now."

"He said he did. He said he knew it wasn't me but he still sent me away."

"He didn't just send you away, Lane. You wouldn't be this upset if it was that simple."

"No."

"Then why did he do it?"

"Danny, I don't how many ways to tell you—I don't know. I just know he did it in the cruelest way possible."

"Meaning?"

"There are just some lines you should never cross."

"Did he hit you?" Danny snarled, fury written on his face.

"Of course not," Lane said, rolling her eyes. "Ray would never do that. There are…He was just exceptionally unkind in what he had to say."

"I'm sure it was in an effort to protect you."

"Protect me from what, Danny?"

"I don't know."

"Don't know, or won't say?"

"I don't know, Delaney. The Director doesn't share his plans with the group."

"But if you had to hazard a guess?"

"Then I would guess that Ray is trying to protect you. I don't know _what's_ going on, but I know _something_ is. You're my sister. I have done everything I can to convince the Director that you're still an asset to us. If Jasper revealed some sort of plan to Ray and Ray knows that we still believe you work for us, then I believe he would do what he could to separate himself from you-to shield you from what's coming."

"Then why couldn't he just say it? Why did he have to say those…things?"

"If he'd come to you and told you it was about to get dangerous, would you have left him?"

"Of course not," Lane scoffed. "I'm no coward. I would have stood shoulder to shoulder with him to fight whatever this is."

"_That's_ why. If he couldn't ask you to leave, he'd force it."

"That's stupid."

"That's Ray."

"It's unforgivable."

"I'm certain he knew that when he did it. You might spend the rest of your life hating him, but at least you'll be alive."

"You agree with him, don't you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"With his tactics? I understand them."

"You're _my _brother. You're supposed to side with me."

"I do, Laney."

"Don't. Please don't call me that," she whispered. Danny heaved a sigh, running a hand through his short hair.

"Look. It's late. I have to work in the morning and you look exhausted. We'll talk more tomorrow. But, Sis? It'll all work out."

"Right."

X X X

Red sat in his apartment in Bethesda, head in his hands. His life was a royal fucking mess. Liz wouldn't take his calls. Laney's phone was off. He was overflowing with regret and he wanted nothing more than to make things right with the two most important women in his life. He couldn't blame either one for wanting nothing to do with him.

The things he'd said to Laney echoed like shouts through his mind. He hadn't meant them. They weren't even true. He'd just had to get her away from them. Had to know that she'd be safe. Still, he wanted to go get her and bring her back to him. He wanted to believe there was a way that he could keep her safe and still keep her with him.

It had been horrible in the lake house when he'd returned after her departure. Her absence left him hollow while her presence haunted him. The dichotomy of it—feeling her there while being acutely aware of her absence—was too much from him. Their room still smelled like her but the little signs of her were gone. No book on her bedside table, no shoes on the floor. The blanket she'd used for her nap earlier was still on the bed but it was no longer warm from her body.

He knew he couldn't stay there. Knew he couldn't sleep in the bed—_their _bed—without her. He'd rushed around the room, throwing some essentials into a bag. That's when he spotted it. One of her hair ties, one that she'd shot at him just that morning for making some smart ass comment before she was fully awake, peeked out from beneath the bathroom counter. He picked it up, squeezing it into his palm, as his eyes slamming shut. It took him a moment to gather himself, remembering how she'd looked all rumpled and sleepy, hair messy, eyes shining.

God, he'd had to get out of there.

So here he was. In his "weird little apartment," still wrapped up in his memories. He played with the hair tie around his wrist before he dialed her number again. He knew she wouldn't answer, that her phone would still be off, but he needed to hear her voice. Finally he gave up and dialed another number.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Wanna explain to me why my baby sister showed up on my doorstep shaking like a leaf a few hours ago? Or should we just get straight to the part where I hunt you down and kick your ass."

"I need to know that she's okay."

"Do you care?"

"You know I do, Dan."

"What the hell is going on?" Dan sounded as tired as Red felt.

"You tell me."

"You know the Director doesn't share information with the class."

"Karakurt is supposedly on US soil. I'm still attempting to verify that through my own sources but the man who helped get him in confirmed it to the task force earlier today."

"Why is he here?"

"Apparently there is an attack planned on a military installation sometime next week."

"Which one," Dan asked, his voice sounding alert.

"I don't know but your buddies are about to thrust us into the middle of another Russian conflict."

"Damnit, Ray…"

"I didn't call to argue about where you stand, Daniel. I need to know that Laney is okay."

"If by 'okay' you mean alive and well, then yes, she's okay. That said, she looks like hell, she didn't eat, and, judging by the sound of the TV in her room, she's not sleeping."

"I did it for her own good," Red said, sighing deeply.

"Look, I don't know what you said to her, but you fucked her up a little bit. I understand why you did it and I know she'll move past it eventually, but my little sister is hurting. A lot. And I don't like it."

"I don't either but some good can come of this."

"What did you have in mind?"

"By now, the Director is aware that his right hand man is out of commission. Jasper told one of my colleagues that there's someone inside the task force working for the Cabal. He believed it was Delaney. The Cabal needs to think that I believe it as well and that I sent her away because of it. If they think she has nothing to do with me, she'll be safe from SF8 and whatever else the Director might throw my way. I need you to put a proverbial bug in his ear."

"I can do that," Dan agreed.

"Good."

"Stay away from her, Ray. You sent her away. Now _let her go_."

"I'm trying," Red said, picking at a snag on his slacks. "Just…call me if anything changes."


	47. Chapter 47

**47: Broken Bonds**

Red dozed lightly in the Queen Anne chair in the lake house war room, oblivious the screams of agony coming from the adjacent room. He hadn't slept much since Lane's departure and the weariness was catching up to him. Brimley throwing open the double doors and the sudden silence from the man hanging upside down from the chandelier jarred Red awake. Lizzie entered as Brimley toddled toward him.

"I know you think he knows something," said the older man, shaking his finger at Red, "but I wouldn't bet the double wide. My guess? The boy don't know doodle."

"Oh, the boy knows more than doodle, Brimley," Red said tiredly.

The look on Lizzie's face when she saw the man hanging from the chandelier was comical in its drollness. Red stood and moved toward Lizzy once Brimley started to take his leave, heaving a sigh of agitation. She didn't look totally furious, as he'd expected, but there was wariness about her eyes that he didn't miss.

"I've received information from my sources confirming that Karakurt is in country," he started.

"I'm gonna need a bag of dry ice and five feet of vinyl garden hose," Brimley trumpeted from the other room before slamming the double doors. Red shot Dembe a wry look. The other man smirked and left to go find Brimley's latest instruments of torture.

"That poor fellow's an aide at the Russian consulate," Red continued to Lizzie when they were alone, "and a loyal errand boy for the Cabal. I believe he's the one that provided Karakurt with a dough bag upon his arrival in the states."

"There's something I want to make clear with you," Lizzie said as he sat back down.

"Karakurt is known in the intelligence community as the left hand of the SVR."

"It's not enough for you to tell me that my mother was KGB and that I was born in Russia."

"In truth, he works for the Cabal. They smuggled him into America because they know if he commits an act of terror here, your government will blame Moscow."

"My mother and my father, who they are, what happened in the fire—I'm going to find out the truth."

"I'm sure you will, Lizzie. But listen to me. The Cabal is orchestrating…."

"I get it," Lizzie interrupted with frustration. "The Cabal is trying to start another Cold War and an act of terror, committed here, is step one in making that happen. I am listening to what you are saying. And I know that it's important. But it is no more important than what I am telling you and I need you to listen to _that_."

Lizzie was visibly upset, her eyes shining with anger and pain. Red had to swallow back his own reaction. It had been a long few days and he was too exhausted to do this with her today.

"There will be an attack on an American defense installation within a matter of days. If I'm right, it'll be the first of many acts of terror, here and over-seas, designed by the Cabal to further their agenda. We have to stop this man, Lizzie."

"Okay," she said with a sigh, tacitly agreeing to put aside her personal quest for the moment. "I'll get the team working on it."

"Thank you."

"You look tired."

"I stay tired," he retorted dryly.

"Where's Lane?"

"I sent her away," he said after a long pause, staring down at the crease in his dress pants.

"You _what_? Why? For how long?"

"For good, Lizzie."

"Why would you do that? She isn't yours to send away. We brought her here to help protect you." Her voice rose in octave and volume as she pushed away from where she had been leaning on a work table.

"Lizzie, calm down."

"No. You had _no right_. I didn't even get to say goodbye," she nearly shouted.

"Elizabeth. _Sit. Down._" The authority in his voice had her dropping into a chair while the look on her face remained rebellious and infuriated.

"You had no right."

"She was in danger, Lizzie," he said calmly. "It came to my attention that the Cabal believes she's one of their assets."

"She's not," Lizzie interrupted forcefully.

"_I know_, Elizabeth. However, if the Cabal believes she's with them, then she's still safe from them. I had to send her away. I had to take the chance to keep her safe."

"I can't believe that she would just go," Lizzie muttered, more hurt in her voice than she probably realized.

"She…didn't go willingly."

"What'd you do?"

"I…uh…I purposely hurt her feelings. Told her she wasn't needed any more. It was…it was the only way she'd go. You know, Laney. She wouldn't have left if I'd asked."

"There's a reason for that."

"Yeah, I know. But try to understand, Lizzie. I need to know that she's okay. Whatever happens with you and me, I need to know that Laney is safe. She deserves that."

"I get it," Lizzie said with a sigh. "I just…I really liked her. I felt a connection with her. I know that sounds…weird, probably. But…I felt like…I dunno. I just would have liked to tell her thank you."

"I know, Lizzie," Red said softly. She may not remember the bond she and Laney shared when Lizzie was a toddler in a new country but her subconscious did. He was sorry that, like so many of her other connections, he'd had to take that away from her. "I'm going to need your help."

"With?"

"I have reason to believe that there is a leak in your office somewhere. The Cabal believes they have someone on the inside. If it's not Laney, then it's someone else. When you get back to the office, you need to make sure everyone knows that I suspected Laney was working with the Cabal and I sent her away. Dan Ryker is going to do the same on his end. I believe that will go a long way in taking her off their radar."

"I can do that," she said with a nod. "Is that why you look like you haven't slept in days? Because of what happened?"

"I'm not going to discuss that further with you, Lizzie."

"I know you love her," she said softly.

"She's an easy woman to love," he said around the lump in his throat. "And now she'll be safe."

X X X

Back at the office, Liz gathered the team for a briefing on Karakurt. Reddington's words still echoed in her head, about Karakurt and the acts of terror, about Lane. Liz hated that yet another person she had grown to care about had been ripped from her life. Maybe when things settled down she could at least call her. Tell her thank you. Make sure she was okay.

"January, 2009," Liz said once the task force was gathered in the war room. "Stanislav Markelov, a celebrated human rights lawyer known for his criticism of the regime, is gunned down in Moscow. The Russians blamed neo-Nazi youth, but German intelligence suggests it was Karakurt. Acting on orders from the SVR.

"Four years later, Boris Berezovsky, another vocal critic of the regime, was found dead of an alleged suicide. Again, intelligence sources indicate the death was staged by the Kremlin."

"Is Reddington saying that the SVR has sent a terrorist to America?" Samar questioned.

"No, that's what the Cabal wants us to think," Liz said. "Whatever Karakurt was sent here to do, the American government will believe that it was on behalf of Russia. It's a false flag operation meant to strain relations."

"Reddington said that Karakurt's target was a defense installation. Did he identify which one?" Ressler asked.

"No, but I think he might have a lead. He's just being tight-lipped about it."

"Why?" Samar asked. "We're trying to help him."

"Reddington doesn't trust our security. He thinks we've been bleeding information since before the attempt on his life. He's gone so far as to break ties with Delaney Ryker. She is no longer part of this mission."

"Well, we're not waiting on Reddington," Cooper said. "I've already reached out to Langley, set up a consult with the CIA's Office of Russian and European Analysis. This Karakurt must be on _their_ radar. Find out what they know."

"Liz, wait up," Ress called as the team broke apart to take care of their individual tasks. He took her arm and pulled her into their office. "What's the deal with Lane? Why didn't someone call me?"

"I just found out," Liz said quietly, pulling him away from the door and shutting it.

"Surely the old man doesn't believe…"

"Of course not. I think we all have a pretty good read on Lane by now. Reddington took the opportunity to send her away for her own safety when he learned that we probably have a leak. He wants to exploit that leak to get Lane off the Cabal radar."

"I guess I get that," Ress said. "Have you talked to her?"

"No, but judging by Reddington's appearance, it was ugly. He sounded terrible and he looked like he hadn't slept in years."

"I'll call her later and check on her. We'd better get going to this meeting or we're going to be late."


	48. Chapter 48

**48: An Act of War**

Ress and Liz pulled up to a group of nondescript looking warehouses in an industrial area of the city. No one would ever suspect that the CIA was running an intelligence operation out of one of these rundown buildings. They were met outside by a tall man in jeans and a brown jacket. He looked harmless enough but he had that same all-seeing gaze that Liz recognized from Reddington and Lane.

"Agents Ressler and Keen?" he verified.

"That's us," Ress said as they flashed their identification.

"Follow me."

He led them into a room that buzzed with activity. Liz realized then that she had gotten spoiled with the high tech equipment at the Post Office. While they too ran out of a warehouse, all of their equipment was state of the art. Once inside, the Post Office didn't _feel_ like a warehouse. OREA was quite the opposite. It looked like what she'd expect of an impromptu field office. While they had all the necessary tools at their fingertips, there were no niceties.

"Mr. Masik," the man said. A man about Liz's height turned to greet them.

"How's it going. Marshall."

"Donald Ressler. Elizabeth Keen," Ress said, shaking Masik's hand and motioning to Liz. Liz shook the man's hand.

"That was Kilpatrick, he's on his way down. Man, you guys certainly got his attention. The whole team's coming down to hear this. Piece of advice, Kilpatrick's tough. Do _not_ take anything he says personally."

"Alright, let's go. Everyone stop what you're doing," an older man interrupted as he entered. "It's our lucky day, apparently. The good people of the FBI have decided to enlighten us. Kilpatrick. I spoke to Harold Cooper just now and he sent over a situation brief."

"Ressler. Keen," Ress said. "We appreciate you guys extending yourselves…."

"You want to tell us where you got your information?" Kilpatrick demanded, interrupting Ressler.

"A high-level informant, one who's proven very reliable," Liz said, taking point. She could see this surly man was going to be difficult.

"Karakurt," Kilpatrick confirmed. "You're sure that's what he said? Because you're talking to the people who run Russian counter-intelligence and we don't have one shred of credible information that he's in country."

"That's why we're here," Ress supplied, "to share our credible information with you. We're hoping you guys would do the same."

"Look. You have your hooks in the Russian communities," Liz said.

"That's right," Kilpatrick agreed. "And if their top assassin is on US soil, you can bet your badge we'd know it."

"He's here," Liz insisted. "And we have reason to believe he's planning an attack on American defense installations. _Soon_. If civilians die because you're bent out of shape whether the source was FBI or CIA…."

"You asked for our assessment," Kilpatrick interrupted.

"_No_," Liz returned. "We _asked_ for your help. If he's here, where does he go? Who does he meet with? He needs a place to stay, a vehicle."

"We'll ask around," said one of the agents.

"You'll ask around?" Ressler retorted. "That's it?"

"There are stars carved in the marble at Langley that represent colleagues of ours who died drawing intel on Karakurt. Nobody wants him more than we do," Kilpatrick said. "We'll look into your lead and let you know."

The man turned around and walked out without so much as a goodbye or thank you. Ress and Liz exchanged looks before turning back to Masik. The bald man raised a dark brow as if to say 'I told you so.'

"Thanks for all your help," Ressler said with barely contained sarcasm. "Call us if you dig up anything."

"Will do," Masik replied. Ress led Liz out of the building.

"Hey, guys. Wait up," Masik said, exiting the building behind them. They turned back to him warily. "Like I said, the guy's not exactly the warm and fuzzy type, huh?"

"The guy's a prick," Ressler said baldly.

"He's actually not," Masik assured them. "Overworked? Yeah. Underappreciated? Definitely. Alcoholic? Probably. But Killy's been working the Russians ever since they were Soviets. What he doesn't know, somebody he knows does. The truth is, we reviewed what you sent on Karakurt and it's as much as we've gathered since he came up on our radar in '03."

"You guys really have nothing suggesting that he's in the US?" Ress asked.

"Nothing solid," Masik supplied. "Kilpatrick has a CI here in Washington. Part of the Old Guard. Hard liner. Owns a restaurant now. Popular with some of his ex-pat spy colleagues. He recorded a conversation for us last night," Masik said, holding out a tiny thumb drive. "Cryptic stuff. We're not sure what it means yet."

"You think it might be Karakurt?" Ress asked.

"It fits in with some of what you're looking for," Masik offered. "If you take this, it didn't come from me."

"Thank you," Ress said, shaking the other man's hand and sliding the drive from his palm. "We'll be in touch."

Liz waited until Ressler walked off before calling after Masik.

"Hey, can you help me with something?" She pulled up the picture on her phone. "Katarina Rostova, you heard of her?"

"I don't know who that is, but I doubt very seriously that that is Katarina Rostova. I don't think there are any photographs of Katarina Rostova."

"Why do you say that?" Liz asked, brow furrowing, heart pounding.

"She's a myth," Masik said. "Tall tales late at night over vodka shots. Probably an amalgamation of a half a dozen unknown female Soviet operatives. The Pinko Mata Hari."

"You said your CI works with the Old Guard. Could you ask him about her for me?"

"If anybody knows anything about Katarina Rostova, he will," Masik agreed. "Send me a copy of your photo. I'll see what I can do."

Liz watched him jog off and back up the stairs into the building when she turned back to Ressler, he gave her a questioning look. She was about to fill him in when a uniformed man she recognized approached.

"General Ryker?"

"Agents," he said with a brief nod, face stern.

"We didn't expect to run into you here," Liz said, giving him an opening to tell them why he _was_ there. Not like she would or should come out and ask a US General outright.

"I wouldn't expect that you would," Ryker said, raising a brow. His countenance was closed, stiff. Unwelcoming. Completely opposite of his sister. "I'm old friends with Liam Kilpatrick. He asked to meet with me."

"Ah, nice guy," Ressler said, deadpan. One corner of Ryker's mouth inched up and humor flashed in blue eyes.

"I see you've met Killy. He's an acquired taste."

"_Very _acquired. We won't keep you, then," Liz said, "but…um, will you tell Beth hi for me and tell Lane that we miss her?"

"Will do," Ryker said with a nod, sobering.

"That was odd," Ressler said as they walked off. Liz nodded in agreement. "What did you talk to Masik about?"

Liz pulled up the picture of her mother on her phone and handed it to Ress.

"Who's this?"

"My mother," she said. Ress studied it more closely.

"Where did Reddington get it?" he asked.

"Reddington didn't give it to me. I found it in one of the places he stays."

"You think this is a photo of your mother?"

"I don't know. That's what Reddington told me. But that girl? That is definitely me. The agent back there, the CI he mentioned, that could be my chance to find out something about the woman holding me in that photo."

"Why would a Russian CI have information about your mother?" Ressler asked, confused. Liz was grateful for the interruption from his ringing cell. She didn't know how Ressler would react when he found out she was the daughter of a Russian spy. "Ressler?"

Liz waited while Ressler listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. His face took on a concerned look. Suddenly, he was putting his hand on her back and half pushing her toward the SUV.

"They think Karakurt has a white moving truck with explosives," Ress said to Liz over his shoulder.

She slowly turned. They had passed a white moving van when they'd exited the OREA. Her eyes went right to it. It was tucked up against the building, She moved toward it.

"Liz! Liz, look out! The truck!" she heard Ress shout just before she was knocked backward by the explosive concussion of a blast.

Liz pushed up on her elbows, ears ringing, searching for Ress. He'd been thrown into the SUV but was moving, despite the bloody spots that peppered his face. She slowly pushed to her feet as he did and they sort of fell toward each other, each grasping the other's arms.

"Are you okay?" she shouted over the ringing in her ears.

"You're bleeding," he replied, motioning to her nose.

"So are you." She wiped away the blood. "Call it in."

She moved toward the building but much of the façade had been ripped away. The heat from the fire was so hot that she couldn't even get close. There was no movement from inside. No indication that anyone had survived the blast. All those agents. Gone. Just like that. Ressler joined her, shielding his face from the heat.

"There's no way they survived that," he said, grief making his voice heavy. She just shook her head in stunned silence. "The Cabal just incited a war."

X X X

Later, back at the office, Liz sat at a desk, lost in thought. Her heart hurt for all those men and women that were lost. They had the news up on all the screens in the war room. The country was reacting just the way the Cabal would have wanted.

"It's confirmed," Samar said from beside her, hanging up the phone. "No survivors."

"I got something," Aram threw out, drawing everyone's attention. "Security cam from a loading dock on 20th and Independence."

"It's not much, but let's send it wide and see if we can get lucky with an ID," Ress said, walking away.

Liz just stared after him. She should go to him and make sure he was okay, but she knew he probably felt like she did—heartbroken, angry, relieved. If they had stayed with the Masik or the general a few seconds….The General. Lane's brother had walked into that building just before it exploded. As if on cue, Liz's phone vibrated. She picked it up.

"Keen," she said, walking from the room.

"You're okay. I was afraid you were inside."

"No, but those agents? Their entire section. Every agent on that desk was wiped out. If this gets traced back to Russia…."

"Not if, Lizzie," Reddington interrupted. "Senator Hawkins has taken the bait like a bluegill to a cricket. And where he goes, the war mongers are sure to follow. Where are you on Karakurt?"

"Where? Nowhere. The Cabal just took out an entire sub-station of the CIA. They put a bullet in your chest and you have no idea how. You're the most cautious person I know. The FBI couldn't find you for 20 years, but they did. They're three steps ahead and that's exactly what I'm gonna tell the AG."

"Tom Connolly is there?" Reddington clarified.

"No, he's on his way. I assume he's expecting to be briefed."

"Connolly made the harbormaster investigation go away."

"All we have on Karakurt is a recording and a grainy photo that's gotten us nowhere."

"You have far more than that," Reddington assured her.

"Like what?" Lizzie asked.

"I'm glad you're safe, Lizzie. I'll be in touch."

"Wait! Don't hang up."

"Okay…."

"I…I have to tell you something. Just before we left the OREA. Before…you know. We ran into General Ryker."

"At the OREA?"

"Yes."

"Did he say why he was there?"

"Just that he was there to visit their director, Kilpatrick."

"Liam Kilpatrick is an old family friend of the Rykers. It's likely that if he had actionable intel that there would be a strike on a defense installation that he'd call Dan in. Give him a heads up as a courtesy."

"Reddington. He was inside the building when it blew up." There was a deafening silence on the other end. Finally she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Reddington said, his voice tight. "I'll talk to you soon, Lizzy."

"Lane…"

"I'll take care of it," he said before disconnecting.

Liz couldn't hold it back any longer. In the solitude of her office, she put her head in her arms and cried.


	49. Chapter 49

**49: Grief**

Lane sat on her brother's mahogany coffee table in front of the big screen TV in shocked horror as she watched the news of the bombing unfold. She'd sent Danny a message to see if he'd heard anything about survivors and she was half tempted to text Liz and make sure everything was okay with them. Lane had several friends on the OREA desk, having worked with them on more than one occasion. A knock at the front door had her pushing to her feet.

Her heart stopped when she spotted Raymond through the paneled glass of the door. She was tempted not to answer it, but she knew he could probably see her too. She opened the door, her face blank, mouth pursed shut to hold back angry words.

"We need to talk," he said grimly, without preamble.

"We definitely do not," she retorted before attempting to shut the door. His hand shot out and caught it.

"Delaney, we need to talk."

"I've heard that before, Raymond, and I think you covered all your bases then. There's nothing left to say."

"It's about Dan."

His tone, his demeanor, stopped her in her tracks. She began to shake, her ears began to buzz. She stepped back and let him in. He closed the door for her and took her arm, leading her into the living room.

"What happened?" she asked, woodenly, eyes on his.

"Dan went to visit Killy today," he said. She leaned against the wall and slid down it until she was sitting on the icy tile.

"He was in the building."

"Laney," he said, kneeling down. "I'm very sorry."

"No," she said, shaking her head. Then more forcefully. "_No_."

She shoved Ray, sending him sprawling, and pushed to her feet. He scrambled up after her and grabbed her arm before she could get to the front door.

"Laney…."

"I need you to leave, Raymond," she said stiffly, staring at the knot of his tie, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I'm not going to do that."

"I don't need you," she said, her voice harsh.

"Yes, you do. And I need you."

"Go to hell," she snarled.

"Delaney, listen to me."

"I'm done listening to you. You've cleared your conscious. You've told me my brother is dead," she said, her voice breaking. She wouldn't lose it in front of him. She refused. "Now get the hell out of my house."

"In the next couple of hours, they're going to start releasing names. People are going to start calling. The media is going to descend. Do you really want to be here for that? Do you want Beth to be here for that?"

"Beth," she whispered, her niece entering her mind for the first time. How was she going to tell Beth? "Oh, God."

"Let me get you both out of here. A lot is going to be thrown at you over the next few weeks and I can help. Let me do this with you, Laney."

"I don't…."

"Sweetheart, I know I said terrible things. Horrible things. I didn't meant them. I was only trying to protect you, and we can talk that out at some point. But right now, _let me help you_. Trust me in this. I know I don't deserve that, Laney, but please," he begged. She couldn't think. Her mind was racing but she couldn't pin down a thought.

"Okay," she said, because she didn't know what else to say, what else to do.

"Go upstairs and pack a bag for you and Beth. Quickly, now."

She did as she was told. The task kept her mind busy and allowed her to ignore the fact that she was shaking. She carried the two bags down the stairs, swallowing hard as she passed her brother's bedroom. She wouldn't think about it now. There would be time later. Ray was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He took the bags from her and led her out to Dembe and the waiting car.

"We'll go to the school and get Beth. You can stay at the lake house for now. It's secure and there's no cable so you don't have to worry about her catching the news. If you don't want to stay there after you've heard me out, I'll find you a new place."

"I don't care about that right now. You and I don't exist. It's over—by your hand. I just want to get Bethany and get out of here. Can we just do that?" Her voice shook with the forcefulness of pent up emotion.

"Of course," he said, his voice thick. She knew on some level that he must be hurting too but she couldn't let herself care.

When they got to Bethany's school, Lane went in alone to check her out. She spoke with the principal and told her what had happened. Saying it out loud made it more real and Lane had to wrestle with her emotions a bit. She had to hold it together so she could tell Beth. She didn't even know how to do that. The little girl's saddle shoes slapped against the marble floors as she ran toward her aunt, huge grin on her face.

"I didn't know you were picking me up early, Auntie Lane. You made a surprise for me," Beth gushed, hugging her around the waist.

"Hi, baby. You got all your stuff?"

"Yep! What are we going to do now?" she asked, taking Lane's hand. Lane led her out to the car. "Who's that?"

"This is my friend, Dembe," Lane said. Beth stuck her hand out formally and Dembe shook it, charmed.

"I'm Beth."

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Bethany," Dembe said. "If you'll give me your bag, I'll put it away for you."

Lane nodded her encouragement and helped Beth slip it off her shoulders. Dembe took the bag and opened the door. Beth's eyes widened with excited pleasure when she saw Ray.

"You brought my friend this time!"

"Hello, angel," Ray said, patting the seat next to him. She giggled and crawled in. He helped her buckle her seatbelt while Lane and Dembe got in.

"This is the best day ever," Beth said, wiggling a little bit. "What are we going to do now?"

Lane swallowed back tears, looking at Ray over Beth's head. His eyes were endless pools of sympathy, and he draped his hand over the back of the seats, cupping the back of Lane's head. She wanted to be strong enough to pull away, to tell him to go away. Instead, she pressed her eyes shut and prayed for wisdom and strength.

"Auntie Lane?" Beth asked, worried by her reaction.

"Beth, something happened today. Your daddy...," Lane's voice caught, and she had to clear it to continue. "Your daddy was killed."

The silence in the car was deafening. Beth stared down at her hands clasped in her plaid covered lap. When she gasped, Lane finally realized that the little girl was crying. She placed her hand over Beth's.

"I'm sorry, baby," Lane whispered.

"I want my Daddy," Beth managed between sobs.

Lane had to look her window to hold back her own tears at the girl's heart wrenching sobs. Lane felt Ray's hands cover theirs. There was nothing more to say. No comfort to give. They rode in silence and eventually Beth leaned her head against Ray's arm and fell into a fitful sleep. When they got to the lake house, Ray carried Beth inside.

"She's too heavy for you to carry upstairs, Raymond," Lane said quietly. Ray nodded, winded from just the trek up the hill. "Just put her on a couch."

"I'll take her," Dembe said. He slipped the little girl from Ray's arms and carried her up.

"That's the hardest thing I've ever had to do," Lane whispered as she watched Dembe go upstairs.

"I'm sorry, Laney," Ray said beside her, looking as grief stricken as she felt. She wanted to close the gap between them, lean into him, and let him hold her until she felt whole again. Instead, she picked up their bags and followed Dembe up. Ray wasn't hers and she needed to be strong now. For Bethany.

For Danny.

X X X

It was late when Red returned to the lake house. He'd stayed with the Rykers as long as he could before getting called away by Harold Cooper. Harold had confirmed what Red already suspected to be true—that Tom Connolly had been feeding information about the task force to the Cabal. When Lizzie burst in to the office with information on Leo Andropov, he'd suggested they take the virologist's research notebook to Lauren to have her decipher it. The picture she painted was concerning. One virus, one target. But who was the virus for?

When Red and Dembe entered the lake house, he followed the sound of Laney's voice into the den. She and Beth were curled up on the sway-backed, old couch under a thick throw blanket. Laney was reading to Beth, who looked to be drifting in and out of sleep. Laney looked up when he walked in. Out of habit, he leaned over the couch and rubbed Beth's back while dropping a kiss into Laney's hair. It wasn't until Laney subtly jerked her head away that he realized what he'd done.

"Did you eat?" he asked, voice pitched low.

"Beth and I split a sandwich. Neither one of us was very hungry."

"You have to eat, Delaney."

"I did," she said, stubbornly.

"No fighting," Beth said, sitting up, eyes swollen and a little bleary.

"We're not fighting, angel," Red assured her with a soft smile.

With her dark hair all crazy and her polar bear pajamas a size too small, she almost reminded him of Lizzie when she was a toddler. Though Beth was older, he imagined that Lizzie would have looked much the same way.

"It's late. We should go to bed," Laney said, standing.

She turned her back and Beth stood up on the couch, using it to crawl onto Laney's back. Laney hoisted her up, hooking her arms under Beth's knees and mounted the stairs. Red followed quietly behind, charmed by the sweet familiarity between these two.

"All the bedrooms are full," Red said gently. "Why don't you and Beth take our bed. I'll sleep in her room."

"It's not ours," Laney said flatly but without much fire. She walked into the room they'd shared.

"I'll get her settled, sweetheart. Go get changed."

Laney set Beth on the bed and left to go get herself ready for bed. Beth scrambled to the top and scooted backwards as she struggled to pull down the covers on the enormous bed. With a small laugh, Ray reached out and helped her.

"This is the biggest bed I ever saw," Beth said around a yawn.

"It is pretty big, isn't it?" Red agreed. "I'll tell you a secret. It's really comfy too."

"You're lucky you get to sleep here every night."

"I don't know. It can get kind of lonely sometimes."

"But now Auntie Lane and I are here and it won't be so lonely," she pointed out, wiggling under the covers and pulling them up to her chin.

"That's true. I'm glad you're here."

"I don't know what to call you," Beth said, reaching out to play with his watch bashfully.

"Well, your Auntie Lane calls me Ray when she's not mad at me. You can call me Ray too."

"Mr. Ray?" she asked.

"Yes, angel."

"Auntie Lane says she's gonna get the bad guys who hurt my daddy, but I'm scared."

"Why, sweetheart?"

"Because what if they get Auntie Lane first. Who will take care of me?" the little girl asked, chin trembling.

"Bethany, I want you to listen to me, okay?" The little girl nodded. "No one is going to get your Auntie Lane. I won't let them. And your Auntie Lane and I will _always_ love you and take care of you. Do you understand?"

"I forgot Bill."

"Who's Bill?" Red asked, confused.

"My buffalo stuffie. He's downstairs."

"I'll go get him."

Red found the stuffed animal hidden amongst the blankets on the couch downstairs. His fur was matted and he was more flat than round. The mangy thing looked like it had seen better days but was clearly well-loved. When he got back upstairs, Laney was on her side of the bed, settling in. She shot him a questioning look. He wiggled Bill in silent answer.

"Thank you," Beth said, holding out her arms.

"You're welcome, angel. Sleep tight," he said, flipping off the bedside lamp.

"Wait," Beth ordered, sitting up. "We have to pray. Daddy says we always have to say thank you to God for our day."

Red sat on the edge of the bed and made the sign of the cross with Laney and Beth. It had been so long since he'd done this that it felt absolutely foreign to him. Beth folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I awake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. God, it's hard for me to say thank you today. I don't feel very thankful. Mostly, I just feel sad and worried. But if my Daddy's dead then it means that he's up there with you listening so I'm going to say thank you anyway so he doesn't get mad. Thank you for giving me the best Daddy in the whole world. Thank you for giving me Auntie Lane and Mr. Ray and Ms. Honeycutt and my new friend, Mr. Dembe. God, please tell my Daddy that I love him and I miss him and that I brushed my teeth real good, just like he tells me to. Tell him to give Molly a scratch for me too and to say hi to Grandma and Grandpa Ryker. Amen. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit."

Red kept his head down, fighting to control his emotions and to swallow back the lump of tears in his throat. He wanted to scoop Beth up and tell her it was going to be okay. He wished he could make it better for them somehow. When Beth shifted back down under the covers, he pulled up the blankets and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"Mr. Ray," she said, her voice small.

"Yes, angel?"

"Will you stay with us? Please?"

"Bethany, I don't…."

"It's okay," Laney's voice interrupted him quietly.

"Laney…"

"Just for tonight, Raymond."

X X X

Sometime after they all drifted off, Beth became plagued by bad dreams. Red awoke to Beth thrashing and crying out. He reached across the bed to comfort her and found Laney's hand already there.

"She's having a nightmare," Laney whispered, her voice husky with exhaustion.

"Beth, honey," Red said, rubbing her back. Her eyes opened in the dark and by the faint light coming through the window, he could see tears running down her cheeks.

"I want my Daddy," she sobbed.

"I know, angel," he soothed. She turned onto her side and scooted into his arms. Laney scooted closer to them, running her fingers soothingly through Beth's hair while she soaked Red's t-shirt with her tears. He held her shaking little body close to him, rubbing soothing circles on her back and eventually she drifted back to sleep.

"What am I going to do, Ray," Laney whispered.

"We'll figure this out, Laney. I promise," he said, meeting her eyes in the almost-dark. She nodded and he reached over and smoothed her hair from her face. "Sleep, now, sweetheart."

He was almost asleep when he felt Laney's hand creep into his. He linked their fingers and squeezed gently. It was a small comfort that he gave her freely. He knew with daylight would come distance, but tonight, in the dark with Beth between them, Laney allowed herself this small moment of weakness. Red had never been more grateful.


	50. Chapter 50

**50: Love Is a Battlefield**

Lane woke slowly the next morning, feeling groggy and emotionally hung over. Her throat hurt and her eyes felt achy and sore. Beside her, Beth rested in Ray's arms, both of them facing her. Beth's face as mushed and she was drooling prodigiously. Ray, slack-jawed and snoring softly. Lane was at once amused and broken.

She remembered waking up like this once before, a very long time ago. The bed in her flat back then and been considerably smaller, she and Ray much younger. She remembered the love that had filled her that morning, watching him sleep with his body curled protectively around his young daughter, and she remembered thinking she'd do anything for them.

Not much had changed, she realized. She was angry and hurt. She felt incredibly foolish and completely misused, but she would still do everything in her power to protect Ray and Lizzie. That either made her incredibly loyal or totally stupid. Right now she was leaning toward totally stupid. That said, she was grateful that Ray had taken charge yesterday when she couldn't think straight and she was grateful that he was babying Bethany. Her niece had been through so much in her short life and she needed all the love and support she could get. No matter how angry Lane was at Ray, she wouldn't take that away from Beth. Not because of her own wounded pride and not now when Beth was so vulnerable.

As soon as Lane shifted away to slide out of bed, Ray snuffled and woke up. He gave her a sleepy smile before his eyes drifted shut again. Frowning at the flutter in her stomach, she slid noiselessly out of bed, careful not to disturb them. Out of force of habit, she went into the bathroom to shower, mind already racing with things she needed to do. It wasn't until she was in the shower reaching for her shampoo under the hot spray of water that she realized she not only didn't have any of her own toiletries in the bathroom, she didn't even have clothes.

Resisting the urge to bang her head against the steamy glass, she reached for Ray's soap. Maybe smelling like him all day would be her penance for being such a ridiculous idiot. She scrubbed her face vigorously before rinsing it in the hot blast of water. Wiping her eyes, she turned to rinse the conditioner out of her hair and gasped when she realized she was no longer alone in the bathroom.

"Get out of here, Raymond," she hissed, glaring at his fuzzy shape through the foggy glass.

"Oh, relax," he said vaguely, voice still gravely from sleep. "I've seen you naked a million times."

"Yeah, well, it's no longer a _perk_."

"Then maybe I should just take your bag back to the guest room and let you make a mad dash in your towel. Does that suit you?"

"Thank you for bringing it," she said with a sigh, "but could you just…leave? This is awkward."

"It's only awkward if you make it that way, darling. Come down stairs when you're done. We need to talk."

"I swear, if I hear that phrase from you ever again, I _will_ throat punch you."

"Noted," he called, shutting the door.

Lane sighed and made quick work of rinsing her hair. She took her time dressing, pulling on leggings and a bulky sweater that was no doubt too warm for late spring. The sweater, however, was a gift from her mother many years ago and she wore it whenever she felt vulnerable. It gave her comfort and strength, both of which she needed right now. She left her hair wet and curly and went downstairs, shutting the door quietly upon her exit so they wouldn't wake the still sleeping Beth.

Ray was standing over the stove cooking bacon. He was, surprisingly, still in his pajamas. He glanced at her over his shoulder as she entered. He waved a fork in the direction of a glass of orange juice on the counter. Lane hoisted herself up next to it.

"Thanks," she muttered somewhat grudgingly, taking a drink of the cold, sweet liquid.

"You look like you haven't eaten in days," Ray observed, not turning his attention from the sizzling bacon.

"Thanks," she said dryly.

"Delaney," he warned.

"I'd like to say that I'm one of those women who can just let words roll off my back, but when someone I care about tells me I'm pathetic? I tend to take that hard. But don't worry, I'm working on shoring up my self-respect."

The words were acidic, rolling off her tongue. She was proud of herself for not flinching when he threw the fork onto the stove. He turned to her slowly, fury etched on his face.

"You know I didn't mean those things."

"Do I?"

"_Yes_. Damnit, Laney, you know exactly how I feel. I know you do," he said, invading her personal space. Her spine stiffened.

"I'll tell you what I know, Raymond," she said, looking him dead in the eye. "I know that you said those things to chase me away. I knew that at the time. But let me explain something to you. There are some lines that should never, _ever_ be crossed. I could light into you right now and say all sorts of horrible things I know would truly hurt you. The thing is? There is nothing—_nothing_—that could make me say those things. Ever."

"I'm sorry, Laney. I don't know what else you want me to say."

"I don't want you to say anything, Raymond. You've said enough."

"Then if you understand why I had to do it, why can't you put it aside?"

"Because I'm not that big of a person. I'm sorry."

"But you _are_. I know you are."

"I'm really not," she assured him, with a flat chuff. "Being in love with you when I was a kid was hell. My brother teased me. My parents felt sorry for me. And then there was Carla. Carla was…awful. But you know what?"

"Don't," he pleaded, as if he knew what her next words would be.

"No, you need to hear this. Because all those things my brother teased me about? All those awful things Carla said and did? None of them compared to the pain you caused me _willingly_. Purposefully."

"Don't compare me to Carla, Laney," he said tightly, pushing away.

"At least I knew where Carla stood, Raymond. I knew she was brutal. I never would have expected it from you and yet, with one fail swoop of your hand, you cut me off at the knees. And you did it to make your life easier." She reached over and slid the pan of now burning bacon off the stove.

"_No_, Laney. I did it for a lot of reasons but it was _not_ to make my life easier. How can you even think that?"

"From where I sit, it looks exactly like that. You haven't made things safer. You certainly haven't protected me from the Cabal considering they just murdered my brother. And after yesterday? You didn't remove me from the fight."

"What does that mean?" he asked, going very still, his gaze zeroing in on her.

"What it means is this. The Cabal has run my life for long enough. What they did to you, my father, my brother? I'm done messing with them."

"Don't even _think…._"

"The thing about bullies? They only have power as long as you allow them to. You bring the fight to them and you reveal their insecurities—their vulnerabilities. At the end of the day, the Cabal is nothing more than a group of egotistical, power-hungry psychopaths who think they can run the world. What they're not counting on is me."

"That's it. You're just single-handedly going to take down the Cabal?" he said with a derisive laugh.

"Sounds positively ridiculous when you say it like that, doesn't it? Yet here you stand. Taking on the Cabal all by your lonesome."

"They came after _me_, Delaney. They came after _my family_."

"And what the hell did they do to mine? You think by removing yourself from my life that you protect me? All you've done is push me into battle by myself."

"You're not going into battle!"

"Oh yes, Raymond. I am."

"You don't even know if the Cabal targeted Dan. Liam Kilpatrick called him in and Killy was _not_ part of the Cabal."

"No, but Danny was. And if they wanted to know what was going on in the OREA offices, they'd exploit the hell out of that connection. You know it and I know it. You can't protect me from this. I'm _in_ this."

"Because you're choosing to be!"

"Yes! Exactly. It's my _choice_."

"It's taken me _years_ to get where I am with this. To be able to hurt them. And you're just gonna, what? Lob stones?"

"Worked for David."

"This is…insane. I feel like I'm in a bad dream."

"Raymond, I am the daughter of a well-loved American diplomat. My brother is one of the highest ranking Generals in the United States. I'm a Broadway star in my own right not to mention the things I've done for this country as an operative. The Cabal can only besmirch my character by outing themselves and even then, I look like the victim of their big bad boys club."

"Yeah, in a _public_ fight. They'll kill you long before they allow that to happen."

"No, they won't. I will assure that doesn't happen."

"Just like that? Don't be naïve, Delaney."

"Don't underestimate a pissed off woman, Raymond."

"And what about Beth?"

"Because cowering from the Cabal to protect a child has worked out so well in the past. I mean, it kept Danny safe, didn't it? Certainly worked for you."

"They're alive aren't they?"

"And both of them are without parents. We know how Elizabeth feels about that. Give Beth a few years and you can ask her too."

"That's low."

"_That's_ honest. I'm done letting the Cabal play in the shadows."

"I can't do this right now. I can't have this conversation with you," he growled in frustration.

"Welcome to my world, _darling_," she murmured with a smug smile. He stood and moved back to where she sat on the counter.

"What I did, the things I said—that was wrong. I hurt you in a way I can never take back. I understand that. I understand your anger and your unwillingness to bend. What I need you to understand is that it came from a place of deep emotion. When I think about the Cabal hurting you…I have no words to describe the kind of panic that makes me feel. Because they wouldn't just end your life. They would torture you ruthlessly. Can you understand what that does to me? How much that plagues me? You are _everything_ to me. You make me whole in a way I never thought possible. You _look_ at me and you somehow see through the monstrosity of what I've allowed myself to become." His voice broke with emotion and Laney's eyes filled.

"I love you, Raymond Reddington. I always have and I always will." A tear escaped as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers in the tenderest of kisses.

"Then how can I not do everything in my power to protect you?"

"And how can you expect me not to do the same? How can you ask me to walk away when I know that you're in danger? How can you ask me to stand down? All those things you feel—the fear, the awe, the certainty? I feel them too. But you're asking me to walk away anyway. If you wouldn't do it, then don't ask it of me."

"I'll never stop trying to protect you, Delaney."

"I'm not asking you to. Just stop trying to send me away."


	51. Chapter 51

**AN: Just a quick little piece of angsty fluff (can that even be a thing?). Needed to shore up some loose ends before the final push to the end. Thank you for all the reviews and new favorites/follows! You guys are amazing. I'll be out of town for the next few days for a work conference but if I'll try to post again on Thursday or Friday. Have a great week!**

**51: Farewells**

"You can't go, Laney. It's too dangerous," Red insisted at full volume.

"I'm going, Raymond. This isn't up for discussion."

"Just, for God's sake, listen to me."

"No! This memorial service is to honor my brother and my colleagues. Not going is _not_ an option."

He watched helplessly as she put the finishing touches on her hair. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror in a simple black dress. No amount of makeup could hide the dark circles under her eyes and she looked gaunt, even for Laney. She looked heartbreakingly delicate and the very last thing he wanted to do was to send her off into the middle of a biological hotbed of disaster.

"Laney…"

"Raymond," she interrupted, coming out of the bathroom and flipping off the light. "I'm not going to hide."

"I'm not asking you to hide…"

"You are, and it's not going to happen. One way or the other, the Cabal is responsible for the death of my brother. And one way or another, they're going to pay. I will not cower in their presence."

"You cannot go around picking fights with these people, Delaney."

"I'm not picking a fight, Raymond. I'm bringing a war."

"You cannot do that," he said, his blood running cold. "I know that you're hurting and angry but…"

"I'm resolute, Raymond, there's a difference. This conversation is over. You play no role in my decisions."

"God damnit, Delaney."

Red heaved a frustrated sigh. He'd hoped after their kitchen conversation the other morning that things between them would improve. And for the most part, they had. There was a reluctant, tacit agreement between them to put aside anger and hurt feelings. That said, Laney was still prickly as hell and driving him absolutely mad with it.

"Ray," she said with an exhausted sigh, shutting off the bathroom light as she came out. "You can control a lot of things, but this isn't one of them. That said, if Beth and I don't show up, they'll wonder why."

"It's too dangerous."

"This is meant to be a precision attack. They're not going in like a blunt instrument for this. We'll be okay. And if it starts to look iffy, Beth and I will leave. Okay?"

"You promise me," he said, snaking a hand out and catching her by the waist, "that you will take the utmost care today."

Softening, she took his face in her hands.

"I know this is hard for you. Trust me to take care of us, okay? I promise that I will not endanger Beth."

"It's not just Bethany…."

"I know, sweetheart. I'll be careful." With a heavy sigh, knowing that was the best he was going to get, he pulled her into his arms.

"I hate this. I hate not being able to stand beside you," he murmured, brushing his lips across her forehead. She relaxed into his embrace.

"Me too," she said, her voice small. "Ray?"

"Yes, darling."

"My heart hurts today," she said with a catch in her voice. He tightened his arms around her protectively.

"Mine too, Laney." She finally leaned back in his arms, looking at the ceiling and blinking to dry her unshed tears.

"I should go make sure Beth's almost ready."

"Lizzie and Don will be there if you need anything. You're not alone in this."

"I'll be okay," she said with a small smile.

She squeezed his upper arm and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth before walking out. He might believe her if he hadn't known she wasn't sleeping and she was barely eating. She looked as vulnerable and fragile as he'd ever seen her and it was killing him that his strong, independent Laney was struggling and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

X X X

When Lane and Beth arrived at St. Agnes's, Lane spotted Liz and Ressler almost immediately. A crowd was just starting to gather but it was still relatively small. When Beth spotted Liz, she took off running. Lane followed at a more subdued pace.

"Aunt Lizzie," Beth called, giving Liz just enough time to turn around and brace herself before Beth launched herself into Liz's arms.

"Beth!" Liz said with a laugh, scooping her up in a hug.

"I missed your face," Beth said in her usual, unabashed Beth fashion.

"I missed yours. You look so pretty."

"Auntie Lane did my hair. I like your necklace," she said, fidgeting with the pendant.

"Thanks. I like yours too. Is it new?"

"Auntie Lane gave it to me for my First Communion. Will you come to Uncle Ray's house soon and play with me?"

"You're back?" Liz asked, her eyes going to Lane's. Lane nodded and Liz's face broke into a smile. "I'd love to, Beth."

"Oh! Look at the puppy!" Beth said, bouncing when she spotted one of the working K-9s.

"You like dogs?" Ressler asked, eyeing Liz and Lane. Beth nodded. "Yeah? Me too. Wanna go meet him?"

"Can I, Aunt Laney? _Please_," Beth begged.

"If Agent Ressler doesn't mind."

"Not at all," he said, holding out his hand with a grin. Beth took it and skipped off with him.

"I'm so sorry about your brother, Lane," Liz said when they were out of ear shot.

"Thanks."

"How's Beth holding up?"

"You know. Kids are resilient. She has her moments but she pushes through. I'm just glad you're okay, Elizabeth," Lane said, eyes misting. "I don't know what I would have done if you and Don had been in there too."

"I'm glad you're home," Liz said, pulling her into a hug. "I was so upset that you left without a goodbye."

"It wasn't by choice," Lane promised. "It won't happen again."

"Good. It's not just Reddington that cares about you, you know."

"You're right, it's not," Lane said significantly. Liz seemed to catch her meaning and nodded. "We should go save Ressler."

"I dunno. He's managing pretty well," Liz said with a laugh as they watched Ressler, squatting next to Beth explaining something.

"He'll make a good father someday," Lane said slyly.

"Oh, brother. Don't even start," Liz chuckled.

"Just saying."

"Don't let Reddington hear you say that. Speaking of, I'm a bit surprised he let you come today, all things considered."

"Like Ray _lets_ me do anything. Besides, it would look suspicious if I hadn't."

"I guess that's true. Just be careful, okay? I know you can handle yourself but you just concentrate on you and Beth and let me and Ress handle the rest. Okay?"

"Deal. But be extra careful, Lizzie. Please. I have a bad feeling about today."

"Me, too."

"Bethany, we need to go inside now," Lane said. "Tell Agent Ressler thank you."

"He said I can call him Don. Thank you for showing me Flash, Uncle Don," Beth said, throwing her arms around him. He hesitated for a moment before her hugged her back, shooting Liz and Lane a startled look.

"We have lots of new aunts and uncles this week," Lane said, shaking her head with amusement. She held her hand out. Beth came to her side and took it. "You guys be careful."

"You too," Ressler said, his face grave.


	52. Chapter 52

**These last chapters are ridiculously hard to write because so much happened in the last two episodes of last season. Unfortunately, when you cram all that into two hours, there isn't necessarily a concise timeline. I'm trying my best to guesstimate what happens when based on wardrobe changes but even the outfits are similar! Anyway, thanks for hanging in there and for the reviews, faves, and follows that continue to trickle in. You guys are the bestest!**

**52: The Unraveling **

Lane was feeling overwhelmed by the chaos of the memorial service. The families of the fallen had been sequestered for most of the day in a room set aside just for them. While it offered a small reprieve, she'd still been forced to plaster on a smile and greet those who wished to offer their condolences. The Ryker family was an influential one on the Hill and without Danny there to deflect most of the attention, the burden fell on Lane.

She felt her façade crumbling as a headache began to build behind her eyes. She'd held Beth's hand while the little girl read an essay she'd written only a few weeks before on why her daddy was her hero. There hadn't been a dry eye in the sanctuary. She was so proud of Beth for the strength and courage she was showing. She never ceased to amaze Lane.

Still, Lane kept a close eye on her and knew she was fading quickly. When they were shuffled from the ceremony back into the family room and asked to wait, Lane heaved a sigh of frustration. She found her purse and dug out her phone. She had three missed calls. That was a bad sign. She left Beth with the Kilpatrick family and stepped into a quiet corner to call Ray back.

"Why the _hell_ haven't you been answering your phone?" he demanded without preamble after the second ring.

"We were in the service. What's going on? Why won't they let us leave?"

"Senator Hawkins was infected…."

"Oh my God…."

"…by Lizzie."

"_What_?" she gasped, trying to keep her voice low. "When? How?"

"We don't know yet. I'm trying to get her out but she's being stubborn. Just…I need you to get out. This is bad, Laney. Really bad. I need to focus on Lizzie."

"We're fine, sweetheart. They have the families segregated and I never even saw Senator Hawkins."

"Then you shouldn't need to stay. Find Donald. Have him get you out."

"Raymond…."

"_Please_, Delaney. I'll feel better with you both home where I know you're safe."

"I'll call you when we're out."

"Thank you."

"See you soon."

"Be careful, Laney."

She disconnected. Beth was playing with the Kilpatrick grandchildren. Lane motioned to Marilyn Kilpatrick that she was going to step out. She almost wished she hadn't. It was mass chaos in the vestibule. It took her a moment to spot Ressler.

"Don," she called when she got close enough. He looked cranky. His gaze zeroed in on her as she stalked toward her. He took her arm and led her away from the crowd.

"What are you doing out here?" he demanded. "It's not safe."

"Ray told me what's going on. I never even saw Senator Hawkins. I'd like to get Beth out of here."

"Lane," he said, face pinched.

"Don, let me get her out of here. I'm more help out there than stuck in here. There's no possible way I had anything to do with infecting Hawkins. Hell, test me if you need to, but please…let us get out of here."

"No, you're right," he said with a sigh. "Where's Beth?"

"Family room."

"Let's go get her. I'll escort you out the back."

Lane made quick work of gathering Beth and their things. Ressler was waiting for them outside the door. Beth ran to him and hugged him when she saw him.

"Uncle Don!"

"Hiya, Beth," he said, scooping her up.

"I read my letter about my daddy," she said, fidgeting with his tie.

"I know. You're such a brave kid. I couldn't have done it."

"It was scary. It gave me a headache."

"I'm sorry, baby. Would you like to go home now?" he asked.

Beth nodded. Ressler set her to her feet and led them to a side door. The officer standing guard looked at them questioningly.

"It's okay. They're with me," Ressler said, flashing his badge.

The officer nodded and stepped aside. Ressler insisted on walking them all the way to Laney's SUV. He helped Beth get in and get buckled. Before shutting her door, he looked at Lane.

"Go straight home. Tell Reddington to take care of Liz."

"I will. Be careful, Don."

The drive to the lake house seemed to take forever. Beth was fading fast in the passenger seat. Lane gave her her sunglasses.

"Put these on, baby, and lay your seat back. It'll help."

By the time Lane pulled up the long drive, Beth was asleep. She parked and woke the little girl. Once inside, Beth went straight to where Ray sat watching the news on a computer feed and crawled into his lap.

"Hi, angel," he said, looking at Lane questioningly.

"I have a pukey headache," Beth announced, snuggling into his chest, sunglasses and all.

"You get those mean ol' headaches too?" he asked as Lane went in search of ibuprofen and a glass of water. When she came in a couple minutes later, Beth was telling him about the service.

"And Uncle Don took me to see a police puppy named Flash but I wasn't allowed to pet him cuz he was working and it's not okay."

"That's right. We can't pet the police puppies unless their humans say it's okay," Ray agreed, stroking her hair.

"Here, baby," Lane said, handing her the medication and then the cup of water.

"Can she take that?"

"She's an old pro. Right, Bethy?"

"Yup," she said, handing the glass back to Lane and settling back into Ray's arms. Lane leaned down and dropped kisses on each of their heads.

"I'm going to go change," Lane said.

Lane couldn't wait to get out of her funeral dress. She could wear just about anything and be comfortable but the circumstances of this particular dress just made her antsy. She knew that was a sign that she should probably slow down and deal with everything, emotionally, but she wasn't willing to do that. She pulled on loose cotton pants and a short flowy tank top, caught her hair back in a ponytail, and went downstairs barefoot.

"Better?" Ray murmured so as not to disturb the now sleeping Beth.

"Much," Lane replied tiredly. She watched as Ray stood with Beth, her head lulling over his arm. He placed her on the couch and pulled a throw blanket over her.

"Laney," he said, his voice still soft.

"Hmm?"

"Come here." His face was soft and she walked straight into his arms, letting him hold her. She felt him breathe in the scent of her hair and press several kisses into it. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm glad to be out of there. I don't have the energy to play the Ryker princess right now," she said softly.

"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry I can't deflect some of the attention for you."

"It's okay. I'm a big girl. I'll just be glad when this part's over."

X X X

"There's something I think you should see," Red said after a long moment of holding Laney.

He was relieved to have her home and his mind was roiling with all that he was trying to process. He couldn't do anything to help Liz at this point because she was being mule headed, so he decided to concentrate on the gauntlet Laney had silently dropped. He walked over to the laptop and clicked between several tabs, all news, all showing Laney and Beth on stage. He chose one and the video started playing.

"_My name is Delaney Ryker,"_ Laney said in the video from the stage of the church. _"I am General Daniel Ryker's sister and this is his daughter, Beth. When I was first approached by the memorial committee, I wasn't sure how to go about honoring my brother. No one really prepares you for these kinds of things. I couldn't help but wonder what Danny would do in my place and that eventually became my answer._

"_Danny would have asked Beth what she wanted to do because that's the kind of dad Danny was. He was a single father and he and Beth had this incredibly close relationship. So I asked Beth what she'd like to see here today to help you remember her dad. She told me she wanted to tell the whole world about how much she loved her daddy and how he was her hero."_

Red watched as Laney struggled for composure in the video and had to swallow back his own emotion. Beside him, Laney was absolutely still.

"_Whooo…I can do this. A few weeks ago, Beth wrote an essay about the same topic for school. She asked me if she could read it for you today. At first I was hesitant but in the end, I could think of no better way to share the most important things about my brother than to let his pride and joy tell you in her own words."_

Red watched as Laney handed Beth the microphone. Beth looked miniscule on the stage and her little voice shook with nerves at first. As she read, her voice became stronger, her gaze turned from her crumpled piece of notebook paper to the crowd. Everyone listened in rapt attention. When she finished, the church filled with applause. Beth smiled shyly and hugged Laney around the waist. When the audience quieted, Laney took the microphone again.

"_Several of the men we lost a couple days ago were personal friends of mine. One in particular, Liam Kilpatrick, I've known my whole life. His wife, Marilyn, approached me and asked if I would sing Schubert's _Ave Maria_. It was Killy's favorite hymn. Marilyn, I remember our families attending midnight mass one Christmas when I was a kid. The choir sang _Ave Maria_ and I will never, ever forget that moment. I don't know why it has always stood out in my mind, but I've never forgotten the pure joy on Liam's face. It's my honor to sing it in memoriam of him and the others we lost that day."_

Red watched as Laney led Beth over to a grand piano. Beth perched on the edge next to her aunt. Laney closed her eyes, gathering herself before her hands began to drift softly over the keyboard. The sanctuary was utterly silent as it began to fill with music. When Laney began to sing, her voice rang like an angel's in the acoustics of the church. No matter how many times he'd watched it, goosebumps broke over Red.

"Make it stop," Laney managed beside him. Red reached out and shut the computer lid, turning to her, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

"I have _never_ heard anything like that in my life," he said, his voice rough with emotion. Laney couldn't meet his gaze. "You went in there, just like that, and played it cold?"

"I practiced a couple times in the sanctuary before the ceremony," she said with a shrug. "I've performed it a million times."

"Why didn't you tell me you both were doing that?"

"Because I knew you'd say it was too much too fast and that I need to take care of myself," she said, picking at the hem of her shirt.

"_You do_."

"It gave me purpose, Raymond."

"This is what you meant. When you said you were bringing a war? You aren't going to confront the Cabal. You're going to publicly discredit them. Look at me, Delaney," he demanded, frustrated and awed.

She lifted cold, heartbroken eyes to his and he saw something he'd never seen in her before. Something he couldn't name. Something that both terrified him and bolstered his resolve.

"You can tell me it's cold and calculated. You can judge me for capitalizing on my brother's death, but I won't apologize. They took his _life_. Over and over, they stole my brother. My father. _You_. And now they're targeting Elizabeth? I'm done, Raymond. This will stand no longer. I refuse to let it. I'm not you. I don't have 25 years to dedicate to taking them down. But _this_? This is what I can do. No more shadows, no more leverage. They can't sustain a public spectacle."

"They'll come after you."

"And what will they do? That headline reads 'America's Sweethearts.' They hurt Beth and I now, they martyr us."

There was a long moment of silence between them. Laney fidgeted while he mulled over her words.

"It's strategically sound," Red said reluctantly. "It's a start anyway."


End file.
